


Where the sun meets the sea

by Narutoast



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Angst, Anxiety, Background Relationships, Deviates From Canon, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Eventual Romance, Fake Friendship, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Internalized Homophobia, Katara & Zuko (Avatar) Friendship, Letters, Loneliness, M/M, Not Compliant with Avatar Comics, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Mai/Zuko (Avatar), Pining, Post-Canon, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Romance, Slow Burn, Tags May Change, but it’s actually just fake friendship, i guess
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-24
Updated: 2021-01-29
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:08:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 37,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26624947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Narutoast/pseuds/Narutoast
Summary: With the end of the Hundred Year War, the world is rebuilding. Team Avatar is scattered across the globe, as they all take on their own duties to aid the healing of the nations. Despite their distance, everyone does their best to keep in touch with each other... With the exception of Sokka and Zuko.It’s nearly impossible to mend a bridge when one side disappears.
Relationships: Minor or Background Relationship(s), Sokka/Zuko (Avatar)
Comments: 53
Kudos: 117





	1. Prologue

The people of the Water Tribes looked remarkably different than Zuko had imagined. Not only did they wear very unfamiliar and strangely colored clothing, but he noted that the skin of the Water Tribe people was a deep, rich gold where his own was as pale as moonlight. As a child, Zuko had thought that everyone in the world looked like the people of the Fire Nation, that everyone looked like him. The simple ignorance of a child’s mind which was dispelled soon after his banishment as he began traveling the surprisingly diverse world. The warship rapidly approached the shore. Quickly, Zuko banished the fleeting notion. Who cared what they looked like? He was there for one thing and one thing only. The Avatar. 

As the gangplank lowered, adrenaline began to boil deep within Zuko’s stomach as he prepared himself for battle. Needlessly smoothing his armor, he began to exit the ship, fingers twitching with pent up energy. He did not spot any warriors gathering to take him on, though he _knew_ the Avatar was here in this sorry excuse for a village, and had the feeling that the coward had not planned to go quietly. The boy almost smiled to himself; after over two long years at sea, he was finally going to collect his ticket back to the fire nation. 

It was almost laughable when one stupid, though admittedly brave, water peasant sprang forward daring to get between him and his salvation. A boomerang-wielding idiot decorated with a warrior’s face paint would not stop him from fulfilling his destiny. Nothing would. 

The battle, if one could even call it that, was short-lived. It appeared that the pathetic savage village employed exactly one warrior, who was easily beaten by his own weapon. He was only a boy, one who clearly possessed little to no combat skill. Briefly, Zuko found himself feeling almost sorry for him. Just then, an airbender descended atop an otter penguin of all things, greeting his friends warmly. Zuko crouched lithely despite his heavy armor, into an easy battle stance. It was hardly necessary, the boy quickly surrendered to save his friends. _Foolish,_ thought Zuko. Perhaps he was willing to go quietly after all. 

Soon, the gangplank was shutting and Zuko was on his way back to the Fire Nation’s capitol, Avatar in tow. The Air Nomad was nothing like he’d been expecting, what everyone had thought to be a cripplingly old man was, in reality, a sprightly child with no apparent knowledge of all four elements. How that was possible, Zuko could not say, nor did he care. Regardless, Zuko silently thanked Agni for steering him toward the blue light that had shone the previous day. Had he not seen it, he may have surrendered to his banishment being far more permanent than he’d bargained for. _Finally,_ he thought with more relief than he’d ever admit, _I get to go home._

Before the ship was even through the maze of glaciers, Zuko was initiating battle with the brat who’d already broken his bindings and had gotten away from his soldiers. In a matter of minutes, he’d escaped atop a gargantuan flying beast with two Water Tribe kids not much younger than himself. He vaguely recognized the boy, now free of makeup, as the one who’d attacked him in the pathetically small village. If one could even call it that. The bow of the ship, now entirely encased in ice and snow, was immobilized and Zuko realized he’d grossly underestimated the Avatar. He had been thwarted by a mere child, one that contained massive amounts of unrefined power, and Zuko’s ego was sufficiently bruised. 

Watching the sky beast as it lurched upward, Zuko stood completely unaware of just how closely fate had tied him to the three irritating kids who disappeared into the clouds. Thus began his long journey of failed attempts to capture the Avatar.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, the prologue takes place during the first two episodes of the show, though the rest of the story takes place a little more than two years after the day the war ends (unless there's a flashback, which will be noted). 
> 
> Also, this is my first ever fanfic, so please bear with me if I need to tweak things. Sorry! Oh, and please feel free to call me on any spelling/grammatical errors. My editor sucks sometimes (she's me. I'm the editor) Okay, bye.


	2. The sorrowful gust of wind

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this chapter is heavy with exposition, please bear with me. Enjoy!

**Four years later:**

The longest year that anyone could remember had brought the end of the Hundred Year War. Though, there was hardly any time for a collective sigh of relief, the world needed to rebuild. The dead were mourned and remembered. Prisoners of war were released. Plans for reparations were drawn up. The nations were impossibly busy at any given moment, and no one took even a pause just to breathe. Perhaps they were afraid to. The delicate balance that had been restored felt as though it could be blown to pieces with just a firm enough gust of wind. The world was set on edge, worried that the smallest misstep could devolve into another Great War.

War brought people together in the most unpredictable of ways, though now that it was over, it spread them out in equally predictable ways. Those who'd played key roles during the war were assigned to important positions post-war. For obvious reasons. Though, that did not necessarily mean they were qualified for the jobs thrust upon them.

Much doubt was placed specifically on the Avatar and his friends regardless of the fact that the group essentially ended the Fire Nation’s siege on their own. When it came down to it, they were just kids. Despite all of their accomplishments, their personal growth, and the hardships they faced, for many, it was difficult to take a child seriously. 

War changes a person. For some, it builds a shell like an armor, a second skin hardening them from anything that may try to penetrate the surface, be they friend or foe. For others, it undoes them entirely, leaving only a shriveled husk of pain and fear. As for the rarest, war rebirths them from the ashes, leaving them strong, shiny, and new. While some became more trusting after the war, others became less so. Everything teetered in an unquiet harmony. Simultaneously moving forward while staying in place. 

Still, most worked tirelessly to maintain peace. This included Prince Zuko of the Fire Nation who was subsequently named the next Fire Lord following Ozai’s imprisonment. Many expressed concern for the state of the new Fire Lord’s sanity due to the instability his family had displayed in the past. Others simply doubted his ability to rule due to his inexperience, as Zuko took the throne at the young age of just seventeen.

Zuko was well aware of the opinions the public had of him, both positive and negative, though he did not let this cloud his vision. Arguably, he had worked the hardest in his efforts to restore the world and help mend all its discord, second only to the Avatar. Rectifying all that the Fire Nation had spent one hundred years destroying could not happen overnight, his work would take years and would even likely continue after his reign ended. Zuko put everything he had into helping his nation regain its honor.

With so much responsibility on his shoulders, Zuko rarely, if ever, had time to think about himself. His focus was solely on trying to heal the suffering of others while deftly ignoring any that he might have inside himself. Although he’d never admit such a thing out loud, it was all so exhausting. While his passion for his nation, the world, and his many plans never wavered, his soul began to wither. Day after day, he found himself buried beneath books and scrolls which he read meticulously, in and out of important meetings, as well as planning and attending events. Zuko had taken on so much so fast that he sometimes found it nearly impossible to breathe. Peace, after all, was not as easy to keep as one would think. 

Zuko was just so tired.

* * *

Once, Zuko had found traveling across an endless sea to be incredibly boring, though today he reveled in it. Shutting his eyes, he felt the sun warm his face and for the first time in Agni knows how long, he smiled.

The day was beautiful, and the warm, balmy winds reminded him that he still had yet to reach end of the Fire Nation’s territory. The journey would be lengthy, and Zuko longed to soak in as much of it as he could. This kind of tranquility was something he privately ached for.

“Nephew,” said his uncle softly, the suddenness of it made Zuko jump slightly. He would likely never be used to the way the old man tended to move so silently, seeming to appear out of nowhere if Zuko was not paying attention. “Do you remember the first time we traveled to the Southern Water Tribe?”

Of course Zuko remembered. That trip had changed life as he knew it. Finding and capturing the Avatar had been his entire existence for two and a half years regardless of the knowledge that no one had seen him in a century. The day that blue beam of light shot up into the sky, Zuko had been filled with more hope than he’d ever dared to have beforehand. At the time, he’d been banished from the Fire Nation and his father, Fire Lord Ozai had declared that Zuko was never to be welcomed back home without the Avatar in chains. It was a fool’s errand, but Zuko had been desperate. _Even if I’d delivered Aang on a silver platter, he wouldn’t have let me come back_ , Zuko thought. The notion still tasted bitter despite the passage of time.

He knew that Iroh’s question was mostly rhetorical, something for Zuko to reflect on rather than a challenge of his memory. Still, Zuko bowed his head in a single nod. “That feels like an entire lifetime ago,” he admitted, more to himself than his uncle. 

Iroh hummed in agreement. “Indeed, it does. It has been an honor to watch you grow from the boy that stormed the snowy shore that day.” He said nothing more, instead, he turned to give Zuko his privacy.

Presumably, he was off to brew a pot of tea, as Zuko was positive his uncle missed his tea shop in Ba Sing Se despite having more than capable employees caring for it in his current absence. He understood that Iroh longed to be home with his shop making ungrateful people happy one cup at a time, which made Zuko all the more appreciative that he was here with him today. 

This would be Zuko’s second trip to the South Pole, and like his first trip, this was one of business. With the end of the war, the poles had reconnected after many years of division, the two tribes sharing in tradition for the first time in generations. Due to this resurgence, it was rumored that the Southern Water Tribe had built from the small sad village it had once been, transforming into a burgeoning town that bordered on becoming a city. Not that Zuko had the opportunity to see this development for himself yet.

This trip was planned to celebrate the progress that’s been made in erecting this community from the ground up. As well as to establish a more secure and reliable trade system between the Southern Tribe and the other nations along with its sister tribe in the form of treaties. 

Vaguely, Zuko wondered if Katara and Sokka would even be present during this event.

He knew that Katara often traveled with Aang when she wasn't busy teaching new waterbenders to hone their skill. The end of the war had allowed the two time to actually build a romantic relationship that had been previously swept under the rug. Something they’d left untouched until their duties, namely Aang’s, had been carried out.

As for Sokka, the last Zuko had heard, he’d spent a lot of time on Kyoshi Island. He’d always been rather close to the band of all-female warriors, especially Suki, continuing his relationship with her after the war had ended. Zuko could not be sure, though, as he’d heard from Sokka the least out of their group since they had all gone their separate ways. To be fair, he had never been quite as close to the water tribe warrior as the others despite their harrowing venture to the Boiling Rock prison which had resulted in a comfortable camaraderie between the two boys.

Still, Zuko yearned to see his friends, and he did take comfort in knowing that the Avatar had been invited to the event. If Aang was there, Katara was sure to be as well. 

With a small sigh, Zuko looked out at the ocean wistfully. He knew there were countless papers in his quarters that needed reviewing, though allowed himself just a few more minutes to take everything in, not quite ready to give up such a glorious view.

* * *

The wonders of his travel had not worn off before the ship reached the shore, to Zuko’s faint disappointment. He found himself almost wishing it hadn’t ended so soon. Rising from his desk—which he’d been chained to for several hours—Zuko laced his fingers together and stretched his arms skyward hearing his joints crack with satisfaction. He was sore from sitting so long in one position, and perhaps he did not mind so much that the journey was over, as he could really benefit from a nice walk. 

Traveling by airship would have been infinitely faster, he knew, though the extra space for cargo that a ship provided was needed on this trip. That, and Zuko had been feeling at least a _little_ nostalgic. 

Quickly, Zuko stripped out of his travel clothing which were dangerously close to leisure wear and into something more befitting a Fire Lord. The events were not to begin for another two weeks, giving time for everyone who was invited to make the long trek to the pole, though Zuko still needed to keep up appearances. A first impression was important to people of rank, he knew, and he did not dare to dishonor the Fire Nation in such a foolish manner.

It did take longer for him to dress than usual, he noted, as he needed to be prepared for the climate he was about to step into. The Fire Nation naturally was not as skilled at crafting warm clothing as he knew the Water Tribes to be, but it would do for now. After a brief glance at his hair to ensure its neatness, he exited the cozy cabin to make way for the gangplank.

Breathing in the polar air, which immediately chilled him to his core, he remembered how necessary it would be to actively regulate his body temperature while he was here. Zuko noted the stark contrast between his industrial metal quarters bathed in rich reds and the blinding whiteness of arctic before him. It was breathtaking. This was the first time he’d ever been truly able to appreciate the beauty of the glacial landscape, as he had been too preoccupied, and admittedly too selfish, to care about it on his first trip. 

The bustling city before him was a far cry from the tiny cluster of tents and igloos that the tribe had once inhabited. The South had outdone themselves, and Zuko could not help the small burst of pride he felt for the people that lived here.

He noticed that the harbor even contained docks now which could support many ships at once. The memory of his own ship crashing through the snow in a most disrespectful manner filtered unbidden through his guilt-ridden thoughts. He blinked them away as swiftly as they came. Zuko did nothing to hide the awe that was likely plain on his face as he stepped off of the gangplank and onto sturdy wood. 

Chief Hakoda was there to receive him warmly, along with a few of the town’s inhabitants some of which looked familiar while others did not. Zuko assumed these to be high ranking tribesmen, as the only other boats in the harbor belonged to the Southern Tribe. Zuko deduced that the Fire Nation were the first guests to arrive.

“Fire Lord Zuko, welcome! I hope your travels were easy. We’ve truly been looking forward to your arrival,” came the Chief’s exuberant greeting.

Seeing Chief Hakoda brought Zuko back to the day he and Sokka had rescued him from the Boiling Rock. The honorable man had been in chains as he stepped off of the gondola, he'd allowed no amount of shouting and prodding from the guards to break his spirit. A sense of respect had filled Zuko, as the warden attempted to demean and humiliate him, even in his compliance, Hakoda had remained proud. The memory tore at a wound still tender in his heart, though he kept his expression impassive.

Zuko gave a polite bow. “Thank you, Chief Hakoda, for your kind invitation. The Fire Nation appreciates its alliance with the tribes and I look forward to seeing the all of the hard work your village has put forth up close,” Zuko replied, hearing just how irritatingly formal he sounded to his own ears. He stifled a grimace.

If the Chief noticed Zuko’s stiffness, he charitably pretended not to. Instead, he gestured for Zuko to come with him, the dock plenty wide enough for them to walk alongside each other. “How have you been? You’re looking well. It’s been so long since we’ve seen you, it feels like only yesterday that we attended your coronation.”

Truthfully, Zuko felt tired both physically and mentally. He’d forgotten to sleep the night before as he pored over the many documents that needed his attention. Naturally, he did not tell the chief this, and he silently hoped that he actually _did_ look well and that the dark circle beneath his unscarred eye was not as prominent as it felt.

“I’ve been quite well, thank you” he replied, a little too much enthusiasm injected into his tone. He made a note to tone it down a touch. His statement was a lie wrapped in a half-truth. “It _has_ been a long time, and for that, I apologize.” He wasn’t sure what else to say.

He only half listened as the Chief introduced him to some of the warriors surrounding them, his eyes quickly scanning the small crowd for any sign of Katara and Sokka. With more disappointment than he’d anticipated, he could see that they were not in attendance. Swallowing those feelings down, Zuko remembered to be grateful for this trip ahead of him. It was nice to attend an event that didn’t take place in his own palace. He had sorely missed traveling, having the opportunity to see new places and meet new people.

Zuko had been politely nodding in all the right places, though he pulled his entire focus back to the introductions and conversation before him. It appeared that it was time for his tour, and he was ready to see all that there was to see. 

* * *

Hakoda did not mention his children, and Zuko did not ask. After a lengthy tour of the new village, the Chief decided that Zuko must be tired from his travels, which he was. He showed him to his rooms inside of a beautifully crafted and large building. It was nothing near the size of the palace in the heart of the Fire Nation’s capitol, but that made it no less impressive. The structure was built into a glacier, it seemed, and it likely did well to protect from the intense winds that he was aware the poles were known for. 

It appeared that this was a hub for important visitors, a place to house them for the duration of their stay. Grand halls—not unlike the palace of the North—likely led to large rooms for things such as council meetings and other important business that would require space for an audience. This was not to be mistaken for a palace, and Zuko already knew that the Southern Tribe had done things far differently than its sister across the world. He’d learned a lot about the two tribes during his time with Sokka and Katara, and he was interested to see their variations up close.

Zuko marveled at the craftsmanship as he was led to his comfortably sized quarters. Plush furs covered the room, and something he would have once thought to be barbaric, Zuko found rather charming. The place was unmistakably Water Tribe. He thanked Hakoda, bowing to him once more before he was left to his own devices. 

There was barely any time to survey his quarters before his own men invaded his space, bringing his belongings and unpacking them with care. He thanked his men and gave instruction to one of his many assistants to retrieve him if he was not already out of the room when it came time for dinner. As quickly as they had come, they were gone leaving Zuko truly alone.

Breathing a sigh of relief, he eyed the bed wondering if it would be rude of him to take a nap. Chief Hakoda _had_ specifically brought him here to rest after his long journey, and despite feeling so tired that his body might have given out at any moment Zuko still paused. He sat on the edge of his bed and stared resolutely at the furs beneath his boots, determined to make a decision. And soon.

A timid knock at the door startled Zuko. He did not realize that he’d fallen asleep in a sitting position until he rose to his feet and his body heavily protested, filling his already stiff form with the aches he’d imagined an old man would possess. The room was only vaguely familiar, and it took just a moment to realize where he was and why.

Zuko cleared his throat and willed his inexplicably racing heartbeat to calm as he reached to open the door to the guest room. Fixing his face with what he had hoped was a pleasant expression, he answered. It was not until he took in the familiar face that the careful knock belonged to, that he truly smiled. “Katara.”

The greeting had barely left his lips before Katara launched herself into Zuko’s arms. He caught her easily, a noise somewhere between a laugh and a startled gasp heaved from his throat before he could think to quell it. Zuko was dimly aware of how much shorter than him Katara was, as her face buried deep into his neck. How had he never noticed?

“Zuko, I’ve missed you _so_ much,” she said in a voice wavering with something akin to sorrow. 

Zuko could relate. Despite their incredibly rocky start, Zuko had found himself closer to Katara than almost anyone else in their group. Second only to Aang, he’d argue. While Katara had kept rather consistent correspondence with him, it had been far too long since he’d seen her. After a few visits, any business Zuko had shared with Aang due to their positions, Katara had been notably absent from. She had her fair share of responsibility In her village, which included teaching waterbending to other new benders in need of a master, though a quiet part of Zuko’s mind had wondered if maybe she hadn’t forgiven him for his misdeeds as much as he’d thought. This, of course, was quickly dispelled by the many letters they’d exchanged over the time that had passed since the war’s end.

“I know,” came his soft reply, his hold on her tightening. “I’ve missed you too.”

“I’m really sorry I haven’t visited. Things have just been so busy since—“ she cut herself off sharply as though she could not bear to speak the words into existence. Zuko could feel her breath hitch slightly. He stroked gently at her soft brown hair and nodded. It was not as if he’d ever actually wondered whether or not the Water Tribe people had soft hair, though found himself strangely surprised by the texture. 

Zuko understood. To speak of the war was not a dirty thing, however it was still something raw for most of its survivors. So much suffering had come from it in just their short lifetime alone, and to think that its length had far surpassed that was dreadful to say the least. Everyone had lost something in the war, be it a loved one, a sense of security, or even part of themselves. Zuko wondered if the topic could ever be an easy thing. He doubted it. This was not to say that every living thing was forever haunted by this horrific past, for some, it only flared up like the ghost of an old wound. He guessed that this was the case for Katara, as she was genuinely a very positive and hopeful person.

Unfortunately, the same could not be said for Zuko. And whether he was willing to admit to that or not was another story altogether. 

Too late, Zuko realized that he’d been holding firmly onto the waterbender for far longer than could be considered proper. With pinkened cheeks, Zuko disengaged from his friend. Just how long had it been since someone truly hugged him out of something more than mere politeness? Smiling sheepishly, he gestured for her to come inside and to his pleasure, she did. They sat in large chairs piled high with plush furs, and for a moment, Zuko forgot that he was in one of the coldest places on the planet.

“So, uh, how have you been?” He asked awkwardly. Zuko was _nothing_ if not awkward. “You look great.” The addition did nothing to ease his unfathomable nerves, although it was true enough. To say that Katara was simply a beautiful girl would be a gross understatement. She was stunning, and her beauty had only grown as she’d gotten older. 

The Water Tribe girl smiled almost shyly at the compliment. “I’ve been really good. My teaching skills have improved so much since... my first student.” She winced.

Zuko had not been present while Katara was teaching Aang to waterbend, though given her expression, he gathered that it hadn’t exactly gone well for her. He sympathized, momentarily thinking back on his own training with the Avatar. Zuko briefly interjected to convey his delight that her lessons were going smoothly. For a while, they exchanged thoughts on teaching styles, and Zuko offered anything he thought may have been of use to her.

After a short pause from Katara, he could tell there was something weighing on her mind. A few times, she’d opened her mouth as if to speak, and would immediately shut it, seeming to lose her nerve. She was silent for a long time, and the air began to feel heavy. “How about you? You look— Zuko, you look tired,” she stated slowly, tone colored with concern.

For only a moment, he wondered if this is what having a sister should really be like. If Azula had not been insane, was there even the shadow of a chance that she could have cared about him just a fraction as much as Katara did for her friends? Zuko supposed that he’d never know, although he severely doubted it. 

Zuko shook his head. “I’m perfectly okay. You just caught me at the end of a nap.” They both knew that wasn't the kind of tired she had been referring to. Katara could see through the lie, however she graciously let the subject drop for the time being. Sure that this would not be the only time they would speak of this, Zuko resolved to build that wall higher lest he worry any of his friends further.

 _Change the subject_ , the thought was loud, almost enough to startle him. Zuko was not keen on talking about himself, and discomfort had started to tie his stomach into knots. “So, where’s Aang?”

 _Smooth._

Katara rolled her eyes, though he could see fondness gather in their crystalline depths. This, he could tell, would steer them far enough from the topic. “Earth Kingdom business. You know how it is. He did say should be here before the deadline.” There was a weightless threat in her tone implying that Aang had better be there on time or she’d wring his neck. 

“I do, in fact, know how it is,” he agreed with a nod. Zuko paused, unsure how to move the subject along further. “Then I take it that things have been busy for both of you? Outside of just your lessons, I mean.” 

This launched Katara into a series of long tales regaling their accomplishments as well as some failures sprinkled in for flavor. To Zuko’s immense relief, he no longer had to talk or think. He could simply nod in all the right places, more than happy to hear about the adventures of his friends. A bigger part of him than he’d acknowledge wished he could’ve been along for most of these happenings, even so he was pleased.

Zuko was exhausted, he simply did not contain the energy necessary to hold such a heavy conversation as the one she'd prompted earlier.

* * *

Toph, Katara had told him, was still busy with her own teachings. Benders from all over the Earth Kingdom had flocked to her academy in the hopes of learning to metalbend. Creating a new style of bending naturally came with immense popularity. And Zuko did not miss that they’d entirely avoided the topic of Katara’s bloodbending. He knew that she was the only one left with this skill—if it could be called that—and he also knew that she never wished to speak of it again.

The talk of their friend's success soon devolved into the two comparing notes on how often they each were in communication with their group since they'd all gone their separate ways. Katara, it seemed, missed everyone just as much as Zuko did.

Letters from the earthbender came to Zuko about as often as Katara received her own. They agreed to attribute it to her fame, and perhaps some degree laziness. Toph probably couldn’t be bothered to employ someone to write her letters for her on a more regular basis than she was already working on. With her being a royal, Zuko had found himself in the same place at the same time as Toph for a few Earth Kingdom occasions, and each time it had been nice to see her. They traded snark in a way that reminded Zuko that he wasn’t quite as old as he felt, and it was incredibly refreshing. 

Regardless of how busy she was with her fellow warriors, and Zuko assumed also with Sokka, Suki still managed to write a little more often than Toph. Zuko and Katara both enjoyed her letters, as she was very well-written and her messages were always particularly thoughtful ones, somehow always arriving at just the times that they’d needed them most. The warriors had come to the Fire Nation a handful of times, and she was consistently very pleasant to him. Suki also always managed to make time to have tea with him at least once on each of her visits. It seemed that Katara and Aang had also made about as many pilgrimages to Kyoshi Island as the warriors had made to the Fire Nation since the day peace was declared.

Aang was more prone to showing up in person rather than wasting time with letters. Correspondence with the Avatar was few and far between, though the two of them each saw the boy enough to make up for that fact. Katara, obviously seeing him far more often than Zuko. 

And then there was Sokka. A letter from the Water Tribe warrior had not come for Zuko in quite a long time, and it had been even longer since he’d seen him. Zuko had not met with Sokka since the day they had all gone to his uncle’s tea shop in Ba Sing Se after the war’s end. Zuko had still been in a relationship with Mai at the time, which felt like a lifetime ago. Even with Suki’s visits, Sokka remained elsewhere. 

Whenever her brother was away, Sokka made sure to send a letter to Katara at least once to keep her from worrying. This news left Zuko feeling rather disheartened, not that he’d ever admit such a thing to Katara. It had never bothered him that Sokka didn’t write or make any attempt to see him because he’d thought the Water Tribe boy had simply been too busy, though it seemed that he was only too busy to reach out to Zuko. Perhaps that little nagging voice at the back of his mind telling him his friends didn’t care about him now that the war was finished had not been too far off... At least where Sokka was concerned. 

Could Zuko have been so dense that he’d mistaken mild contempt for friendship? The thought was an uncomfortable lump forming in his throat that he worked hard to swallow down. Any news of Sokka had come directly from Katara’s letters, so she would surely know if Sokka did not like him. She’d definitely have told him that. 

_Right?_

* * *

In spite of everything Zuko had heard earlier, and the malformed conclusions he’d drawn about Katara’s brother, he had very much appreciated her company that night. Letters were nice, but they paled in comparison to catching up in person.

For the first time in far too long, Zuko hadn’t felt the crippling loneliness that had rested itself heavily onto his shoulders these past years quite as deeply. Sure, some of it was still present, as he knew that in a month’s time he would be alone again. It would come right back with a vengeance filling him up to the brim. But for now, its bite was not quite so bad. 

There had been a grand feast in honor of Zuko’s arrival that evening, and it’d been nice to enjoy a hot meal for the first time since he’d left his home in the Fire Nation. All had been rather pleasant, especially with his uncle seated to Zuko’s left and Katara to his right. It was conceivably the best night he’d had in as long as he could remember. 

Still, Zuko could feel self-doubt creeping into the edges of his thoughts like spilled ink soaking through a scroll, devouring any unmarred paper in its wake. His mind worked double time as he ran through every possible scenario and every interaction he’d had with Sokka in the past. In the end, Zuko could not figure how he’d managed to push away one of the few friends that he’d ever had. If they'd ever been friends at all. To be fair, it _had_ been years since he’d even seen the water tribe warrior. Zuko probably simply misremembered something, and he was sure an error had to have been made on his part somewhere along the way. 

At some point, Zuko must have fallen asleep and as he did almost every night since the war’s end, he woke up screaming. Zuko clutched at his face as if it were on fire, and he could almost smell the gut wrenching scent of burned skin and singed hair. This time, though, instead of his father’s face looming over him, it had been _Sokka’s_.

Zuko leaped out of bed and ran to the nearest thing he could find, an urn, and promptly threw up into it. His stomach did not end its heaving until his coughs were dry, leaving him sweaty and panting on the floor of his temporary bedroom. He tried to swallow and his throat burned as though he’d just eaten a dozen hot coals, he vaguely wondered if his already somewhat raspy voice would even work the following day. As he dragged himself back into bed, he made a mental note to ensure there was a pitcher of water at his bedside each night for the duration of his stay. Just in case.

The nightmare repeated itself three times before Zuko abandoned the institution of sleep altogether.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> By the way, I feel like the show implied that the gaang were all still the same age at the end as they were at the start despite of an entire year passing. That’s why I’d written Zuko being 17 when he was crowned Fire Lord.
> 
> I also want to clarify, there are absolutely no romantic feelings between Katara and Zuko. They're just really good friends. Zuko is all alone in the Fire Nation, okay? He needs someone to care about him.
> 
> Chapter title from Nandemonaiya (English version) - Radwimps


	3. Just a little more

Rubbing hard at his tired eyes, Zuko groaned. How much longer could he go without a decent night’s sleep? Zuko couldn't be sure, but he was certain he would lose his sanity before he even had the chance to find out. _Firebenders rise with the sun._ He rolled his eyes. Not today. Even Agni didn’t stir at such an hour. He could feel his brain slowly turning to sludge, and it was with great effort that Zuko finally hauled himself out of bed. Perhaps he could find a secluded place to bend his frustrations away.

Zuko scrubbed out the vomit-filled urn to the best of his ability before getting dressed. Blue hour had only just begun, and knew he had ample time to find a spot where he could firebend safely. The last thing he needed was a Water Tribe child to eventually stumble upon him, risking serious injury or _worse_. He shuddered to think of such a thing. Children were too fascinated with fire for their own good. 

Soon he was outside, feeling the bite of the early morning wind against his face. And in that moment, world belonged only to Zuko. He could detect no signs of stirring from the sleeping village before him. Briefly, he wondered if they took that simple peace, the ability to sleep soundly, for granted. 

After about a half hour of walking, Zuko found a snow-packed alcove by the shore. The rising sun was directly in front of him, and in spite of all his troubles Zuko felt calm. The connection he felt to Agni in that moment bolstered his strength, and he breathed a sigh of relief. _This is exactly what I’ve needed_ , he thought. Yet, soon after he’d started, Zuko found that he had no choice but to call it quits. Lack of sleep from the past two nights was catching up with him fast. This left him so tired that he felt almost drunk, and he was aware that it would be careless to continue firebending in such a state. 

While fire was a beautiful and passionate element, Zuko knew it could also be angry and unforgiving. _Fire is the element of power_ , Iroh had once told him. Cold fingers touched lightly to the scar that deformed his face. The subconscious action left a sense of displeasure simmering deep within him. He dropped his hand—balling it into a tight fist at his side—and turned immediately to head back to the icy village.

* * *

Watching Katara’s lesson was truly a thing of beauty. Had she not practically said it herself, Zuko would never have guessed there was a time where she'd been anything less than an excellent teacher. As he watched her patiently coaxing a young child to bend just a small orb of water, Zuko noted just how different waterbending was from his own element. The entire practice seemed so tranquil, a concept that was entirely foreign to Zuko. 

Her class was finally winding down. Lost in thought, Zuko barely listened as she gave her pupil instruction to practice in preparation of their next lesson.

Katara had asked him to wait for her so they could take a canoe out onto the freezing water. Zuko had failed to see how something like that could be safe, such a tiny vessel surrounded by enormous blocks of ice. Though, he’d figured that Katara’s waterbending could get them out of any serious bind, so he reluctantly agreed. Despite any discomfort the he felt about the activity, a quiet part of him was almost excited to take in the beauty of the South Pole on such an intimate level. 

“Hey, you waited!” She called to him as she jogged over, red-faced from the cold. 

Rather uncharacteristically, Zuko chuckled. “I told you I would,” he murmured. His throat was still raw from the previous night, and he flinched, willing the memory to drop from his already cloudy thoughts. 

Katara did not miss the hoarseness in his voice. She cocked her head with a concerned expression furrowing her brow. “Don’t tell me you’re getting a cold _already_. You’ve only been here for _one_ day,” she chided, still managing to sound sympathetic. 

It was no accident that she had chosen a spot near the pointy little vessels for that day’s lesson. Katara pushed one into the water easily and gestured for him to climb aboard. 

“I’m Fire Nation, I guess I’m just not built for the cold.” Zuko was grateful that she'd unknowingly provided him with an excuse. He had less than no desire to explain the reality of his sore throat to his friend. 

As he got in, the thing wobbled some. Katara had to stifle a giggle at his alarmed expression as she moved to settle herself in as well, employing infinitely more grace than Zuko. The motion of paddling took more getting used to than he’d anticipated, and he silently hoped that his inexperience would not earn them an icy death by water. 

Being so close to the ocean was amazing to Zuko, he’d never done anything like this before. The Fire Nation was all industry, gigantic metal ships that kept a considerable distance between himself and the sea. He gazed up in wonder at the icebergs looming over them, like enormous movable mountains. In all his life, Zuko could not remember ever feeling so small. 

* * *

For three nights in a row, Zuko had the same nightmare of Sokka horribly disfiguring his face in Agni Kai. Each time, he was violently sick. And each time, he could not get back to sleep after.

“Zuko, you _really_ don’t look so good,” Katara told him. 

He could see how worried she was getting, and Zuko knew he could not fool her with the guise of a cold for much longer. The hollow beneath his good eye had grown so dark that it looked like someone had punched him, and his throat was so sore that it was a chore just to speak. It took almost every ounce of his energy not to fall asleep at the low table they were seated at. At this point, Zuko was sure he already had one foot in the grave. 

Zuko looked away. 

“Are you _sure_ there’s nothing I can do to help you?” She sounded almost desperate, her large blue eyes threatening to spill over with tears at any moment. 

Uncle Iroh was brewing a pot of tea for the three of them, he’d insisted that it would aid in soothing Zuko's throat. This was already the second pot since they'd gotten there earlier that afternoon.

Tilting his head up, he gazed at Zuko with an expression of worry that nearly matched Katara’s, but he said nothing. In that moment, Zuko found himself wondering if his uncle could see the leader of an entire nation or simply a foolish boy too stubborn to accept help when it was being offered to him. Somehow he knew would not like the answer.

Each day since their arrival, Zuko had made sure to set aside time to have tea with his uncle. However this was the first time he’d invited Katara along, knowing Iroh would be more than happy to serve her as well. Now, watching both of them stare into his soul, he almost regretted it. Suddenly, this felt more like an intervention than a pleasant gathering. 

“I’m really okay,” he insisted. “Please stop worrying, _both_ of you. I’m just sick, it’ll pass in a few days.” 

Lies. Zuko was lying to two of the people he cared for most in this world, but how could he tell them the truth? ‘ _Hey, it’s no big deal. I’ve only had nightmares nearly every night for the last few years, and they suddenly got even worse. Sorry I didn’t tell either of you sooner._ ’ Sure. _That_ was bound to go well. No. This was for Zuko to deal with on his own.

His uncle handed him a new cup of tea and Zuko watched the steam curl out from the rim and dissipate. He took a large sip into his mouth and swallowed the truth. It burned all the way down.

* * *

On the fourth day, Zuko seemed to start acclimating. He’d still had the nightmare, and the aftermath was the same. Though miraculously his throat did not ache nearly as badly, and regardless of his minimal sleep, Zuko felt truly _awake_. He dearly hoped this newfound energy would last throughout the day. 

As if on cue, a familiar knock sounded at his door. 

“Come in,” Zuko called, continuing to tie his hair into a neat top-knot as Katara stepped into the room. 

“Good morning, Zuko. Are you feeling any better?” She deposited a small leather drawstring pouch as well as a water skin onto the desk in front of him. The pouch had an... odor.

“What _is_ that?” Zuko curled his lip in distaste. He avoided touching the bag for fear of what might live inside. 

Katara giggled at his visceral reaction. “It’s blubbered seal jerky, and it tastes a _lot_ better than it smells. I promise.”

“I see.”

“You didn’t answer my question,” she pointed out. 

“Right,” he said, drawing the word out as he continued to eye the pouch suspiciously. Once he was satisfied that the thing would not move, he turned to face the waterbender who was peering at him with an expression filled with hope. “I’m actually feeling a lot better today.”

Her face lit up with a smile so dazzling, Zuko could not help but return it. “I’m _so_ glad to hear you say that, because I have something fun planned for us today.” She took the water and stinking bag in one hand and grabbed Zuko’s fingers with the other in an effort make him stand. “Come on, we can eat on the way.”

* * *

‘Something fun’ had been penguin sledding and it _was_ fun. At first, Zuko insisted that she was making it up. Penguin sledding? There was no way that was a real thing. Although, Zuko did recall that Aang had been aboard an otter penguin the first time he’d ever laid eyes on him. 

Before he knew it, Zuko was having the time of his life. He’d initially worried that the activity was an act of cruelty to the flightless birds, but came to realize that they strangely did not seem to mind at all. And Zuko was careful only to capture the largest of the creatures, just in case his size posed any issue. It never seemed to. 

On their way back to the village, Zuko found himself laughing in a way that he wasn’t sure he ever had before. Carefree. Honest. Is this what true freedom felt like?

From far behind him, Katara was laughing too. Her laughter, in combination with a minor battle wound obtained diving for her last otter penguin hindered her walking. She paused every so often, doubling over in another giggle fit and needed to catch her breath before stumbling forward in a fruitless attempt to catch up to him. 

“Katara, hurry _up_! I need to eat something that isn’t nasty blubbered seal j—“ the words died on Zuko’s lips as his eyes stared into bright blue ones. 

Sokka. 

Even bundled in thick cold-repellent clothing, Zuko could see that he was more filled out than the boy from his nightmares. The Sokka that stood before him was every bit a seasoned warrior. Thick bands of muscle broadened his shoulders, and he was much taller than the last time Zuko had seen him, but it was still unmistakably him. 

Zuko tried to say something, but his mouth refused to open. His heart pounded against his ribcage as his nightmare played on a loop inside his mind. 

Katara was still several paces behind him—the snow drift that Zuko had just stepped around still blocking her view—and likely hadn’t seen her brother yet. 

After what felt like an eternity, Zuko’s jaw finally cooperated. But before he could get his greeting out, those usually good-natured, mischievous eyes hardened to bitter ice. He looked past him as if he hadn’t seen Zuko at all, and Sokka took off at a jog to greet his sister. 

Zuko felt like he was going to be sick.

Katara was overjoyed by the unexpected arrival of her brother. She’d jumped into his arms the very instant that he was close enough, her giggle fit long forgotten. They hugged tightly and Sokka spun her in a circle as though she were weightless. 

Zuko felt like an intruder. 

“Sokka! What on earth are you doing here?” She visibly squeezed him even tighter, if that were possible. 

He laughed easily as if he hadn’t just given Zuko one of the angriest glares he’d ever seen. Zuko’s mouth was still hanging open, and he shut it hard with a disconcerting clack. He couldn’t even hear Sokka’s reply past the dull roar filling his ears. It seemed that his brain had disconnected. 

The siblings chatted enthusiastically and Zuko couldn’t make out a word of it. Swallowing hard against the lump in his throat, he turned around and left, wondering vaguely if they’d even notice that he was gone.

Zuko was truly stunned. He thought that his own self-doubt had simply manifested in the form of a ludicrous recurring nightmare. He hadn’t actually expected that he’d been right. Sokka really _did_ hate him, and for the life of him, Zuko could not figure out why. Nothing made sense, and Zuko felt so fucking stupid. 

Dazedly, he realized he was standing in front of his bedroom door. Had he really walked that far without paying attention? He attempted to retrace his steps in his mind and came up short. Perhaps he really did need to get some sleep. Surprisingly, Zuko did not really feel tired because today of all days, he was truly wide awake. He huffed out a sigh. 

Disregarding his wakefulness, Zuko got into bed and shut his eyes, attempting to clear his mind. He had to stop thinking about Sokka, at least for a little while, or he’d surely go mad. 

Eventually he did sleep, and mercifully, he did not dream at all.

* * *

Zuko did not see the Water Tribe siblings until it was time for dinner, and a sense of dread filled him the second they came into view. Swallowing hard, he seated himself across from Katara, refusing to look at Sokka who was sitting to her right. He simply couldn’t bear to see that look again so soon. 

“Hey Zuko! Where’d you go earlier?” asked Katara. She was carefully ladling sea prune stew into the bowl in front of her.

Zuko considered this for a moment, and he abruptly wished that he hadn't gotten out of bed at all. His advisor had come to his door to inform him that dinner was to be served, and Zuko could not be so disrespectful as to decline. He was, after all, a guest here. 

He took a substantial sip of the wine he’d been served, not even wincing as it burned his damaged throat. “I thought I’d give the two of you some privacy.” 

Katara looked confused. Did she _truly_ not know that anything was wrong? “Did you even say hi to him, Sokka?” The question was clearly for her brother, however her pointed gaze never left Zuko’s face. 

“I actually didn’t even see him,” came Sokka’s quick reply. His voice was a little deeper than Zuko remembered. Given his tone, Zuko would’ve thought he was entirely innocent, though the look in his eye was dangerous. The corner of his mouth quirked up slightly in an expression that was not quite a smile. 

_He’s lying_ , thought Zuko. _He’s lying, and he’s daring me to call him on it._ Zuko had never been good at games on his best days, and he wasn’t even sure what _this_ game was. His heart raced and he could feel traces of adrenaline making their way through his body. 

Zuko recalled the way Sokka had stood there earlier, right in front of him, his cold glare taking Zuko in as though he were sizing up an opponent. The look on his face was not unlike the one from his horrible dreams, and he suppressed a shudder. He would not let Sokka have the satisfaction of seeing him squirm. 

He’d been waiting for the waterbender to say something, though she remained silent. It seemed as if she’d wanted Zuko to corroborate Sokka’s statement. Was this a trial? 

Zuko drank deeply from his wine and looked into Katara’s beseeching eyes. He shrugged. “I must’ve been further ahead of you than you thought. I figured I could talk to him later after he’d had time to settle in.”

“It’s been a long time, Zuko,” Sokka acknowledged. His tone was almost amicable for Katara’s benefit, no doubt. He took a sip of his own wine, not taking his eyes off Zuko as he did so. 

Zuko nodded once. “It _has_. We’ve both been really busy.” 

It was a counter-challenge, albeit not a very good one. 

Sokka kept the guise of a friendly countenance, though the clench of his jaw betrayed him. He took a contemplative sip as if he were carefully considering his next statement. “Yeah, team Avatar’s nothing, if not busy. Look at you, you’re successfully running an entire nation!”

If Zuko didn’t know any better, he would’ve thought the Water Tribe warrior was paying him the deepest of compliments and he would’ve been touched to hear such a thing from him. It made the truth of the situation sting all the more. 

Zuko drained his cup and immediately poured more from the pitcher before him. He could feel Katara’s eyes on him as he did this. 

“It’s definitely not easy, but I’m managing,” he said honestly. “How about you? Katara tells me you’re away from the village a lot of the time.” 

Zuko could tell that he’d unintentionally struck a nerve. “Yeah, well, when you’re not the leader of your people there’s a _lot_ more room for adventure.”

It hadn’t been a provocation; in reality, Zuko yearned to know what Sokka had been up to all this time. He wanted to know where the world had carried him after the war. What he’d seen. What he’d done. What he’d found. He wanted details and anecdotes because Sokka had been one of the best storytellers that Zuko ever met. He wanted all of this and more because while Sokka might not be his friend, Zuko was still his.

Zuko said nothing in reply. 

Sokka busied himself with large bites of his arctic hen presumably to avoid further conversation. 

Zuko realized that he had not a single bite of food for himself, yet he was almost finished with his second helping of wine. His mind began to swim. He loaded up his plate with several steamed dumplings and picked at the food slowly.

“Sokka’s been helping with the rebuilding projects in the Earth Kingdom,” Katara added animatedly, pride for her brother bled heavily into her tone. The information still seemed new to her, it was likely that Sokka had only just told her that afternoon.

The Water Tribe Warrior shot her a pointed look. “Yeah, and I was saving all the details for the fires tonight.” 

The waterbender smiled sheepishly and took a small sip of water to mask her blush. “Sorry,” she mumbled. 

From there, they ate mostly quietly. Some small talk filtered in, though it felt stilted, and the air grew heavy. And every time he dared to speak, he earned another hardened glare from Sokka. 

Zuko refilled his wine four more times before the meal was over.

* * *

The fires provided Zuko with a sense of familiarity that he’d sorely needed. It brought him back to all those nights their group had spent in preparation of Sozin’s comet. The whole institution was largely the same, gathering for the purpose of sharing stories and basking in the company of one’s fellow warriors. It was a time for bonding and strengthening friendship. 

There were many smaller fire pits surrounding the one their party was to be seated at. The atmosphere was warm and full of mirth as some of the warriors set to skillfully starting the fires using seal fat. Dimly, Zuko could not help thinking that he could light them himself with barely a flick of his hand, although he could not be sure if such a suggestion would be perceived as offensive. 

The alcohol had caught up with Zuko, so much so that he did not have the capacity keep himself as carefully in check as he would have had he been sober. He made no attempt to suppress his loud sigh as he was seated right beside the one person who wanted to be as far away from him as possible. 

Sokka glowered at him, and Zuko returned the look with as much venom as he could muster. 

This seemed to surprise him, and he leaned in so close that Zuko’s fuzzy, alcohol-impaired mind was almost convinced Sokka had been trying to kiss him. He began to recoil, and Sokka grabbed his collar to hold him firm. Zuko’s heart started to race. “Now is _not_ the time. Just shut up, smile, and pretend we’re happy to see each other,” he breathed in his ear. Zuko could smell the wine on his breath. 

He nodded, and Sokka was still so close that Zuko’s ear brushed his lip. He shivered. Zuko felt utterly exposed, he was a defenseless animal backed into a corner as the hunter braced his spear for the killing blow.

Sokka released dense fabric at Zuko’s chest and snaked arm around his shoulders in a show of deep camaraderie. Zuko stopped breathing. He straightened—his face no longer dangerously close to Zuko’s—though his arm remained slung casually around his shoulders. 

The thing was, despite Sokka’s clear displays of aggression, Zuko _was_ happy to see him. The whole situation made Zuko feel ill. 

The crackle of the large fire before them filled Zuko’s ears, drowning out the conversations around him. Sokka was talking with Chief Hakoda about the village, and Zuko barely heard any of it. He could not, however, ignore the vibration of speech that radiated from Sokka’s chest and into his own side. 

Zuko was broken from his fiery reverie as a man from his left nudged his shoulder, offering a skin of alcohol that was being passed around. He nodded in thanks, taking a long burning drink of something rather unfamiliar. It tasted nothing like wine. 

Without thinking, Zuko offered the thing to Sokka who released Zuko’s shoulders to take it. Relief flooded him at his newfound freedom, even as the absence of the other man’s heat left a chill to seep into his neck. 

Finally able to breathe, Zuko listened as Katara and Sokka chatted with their father. The topic had shifted to Sokka’s noble efforts in helping the Earth Kingdom. 

“A lot of it’s mostly guard work, keeping the peace wherever it’s needed, stuff like that,” the Water Tribe warrior explained. “But things are happening _so_ fast with all the projects to rebuild. The smaller villages without that many earthbenders especially need the help. We did things like planting crops, rebuilding houses and buildings, things like that.” 

“Did you ever go to Ba Sing Se?” asked Katara.

“A few times, yeah. It’s pretty amazing there now without all the brainwashy business and the disbandment of the Dai Li, but that whole class system thing is still going on. I guess I thought that’d all go away after the war.” 

“It’s to be expected in such a large city,” Hakoda provided. “ _War_ has nothing to do with it.” 

“But there aren’t really any refugees now that there’s peace, right?” Katara’s question left a puzzled crease between her brows. 

Sokka paused, and his gaze slid briefly to Zuko in almost an accusatory fashion. “There _are_ still some refugees. A lot of people lost their homes and families, Katara.” 

She nodded, her eyes staying on the flames as she considered her brother’s words, a sadness darkening her eyes. 

The light of fire dyed the bright blue eyes of the Water Tribe people a molten gold. Briefly, Zuko felt as though he’d been transported back to the Fire Nation. His head swam, and he swayed lightly. 

_I’m drunk_ , he thought. _It’s not proper for me to be_ this _drunk._ He didn’t even want to speak for fear of what might leak out. 

Still, when his turn to drink came again, he gulped down more than he needed to. 

The topic lightened, and Katara happily recounted some of her many adventures with Aang. The stories were not news to Zuko, but they were to _Sokka_.

* * *

Zuko could not be sure how much time had passed since they’d all initially sat around the fire. He’d been trying to keep time based on how often the liquor had been passed to him. He lost count several turns ago. 

Several people had retired for the night, mostly ones who’d surrounded the smaller fires. Quite a few couples lingered, snuggling contentedly before the flames as they talked softly amongst themselves. 

Hakoda was telling the riveting tale of the largest polar bear dog the village had ever seen, and how they’d hunted it. He included the several missteps taken along the way which resulted in the entire group, enraptured by his story, laughing uproariously. 

Even Zuko found himself laughing along. The motion made him very dizzy, and he began to rock dramatically. His fingers gripped hard at the log below him and he shut his eyes. This made it infinitely worse. 

Sokka did not look at him. He simply leaned enough that Zuko pressed against his arm, stabilizing him. 

Zuko’s eyes widened. 

He was certain that he hadn’t imagined it, and the action seemed dangerously close to an act of friendship. Zuko said nothing, sagging against Sokka’s shoulder as he waited for the world to stop spinning. 

Despite the fact that this likely didn't mean anything to Sokka, he’d decided to enjoy the display of false friendship while he could.

* * *

“Hey, take care of Zuko, make sure he gets back to his room okay.”

The voice belonged to Katara, she sounded very far away. Zuko was not sure he was even meant to hear her. 

“Good night, Katara,” he said softly. His throat ached, and it was then that he realized he hadn’t spoken since dinner. 

Had anyone noticed?

She smiled and placed a friendly hand on his left shoulder as she passed by. “Good night, Zuko. Both of you try not to stay up too late.”

Had Zuko fallen asleep for a while? He could see that he and Sokka were the only souls left around any of the dimming fires. The dying flames crackled and Zuko kept his gaze trained on them, not daring to look at Sokka whom he was still leaning heavily against. The two were silent for a several minutes. 

“Why do you hate me?” The quiet words were out before Zuko had the chance to quell them. 

Sokka said nothing. 

Had he dozed off? Zuko dared a peek from the corner of his eye and could see that Sokka’s were open, watching the fire before them. His face was expressionless. 

_What if he didn’t hear me?_ Zuko’s thoughts had begun to race. _If I say it again, and he_ did _hear me it’ll j—_

“Does it matter?” 

“It does to me,” Zuko whispered, still looking at him. 

The Water Tribe warrior’s hair had grown considerably since the last time he had seen him—though it was not quite as long as Zuko’s. It was still tied back the way Sokka had always worn it, and the sides remained shaved to his scalp; it fell past his shoulders even while tied up. The brown waves flowed in the way that Katara’s did, and Zuko was willing to bet they were just as soft. 

“Why?” The word cut through Zuko’s thoughts like a knife. “It’s not like we see each other anymore.” 

“And whose fault is that?” Zuko snapped back. The slight slur to his words infuriated him, and suddenly he wished more than anything that he was sober. 

“Did you ever think that maybe I didn’t _want_ to see you? That I _don’t_ want to see you?” he spat. 

Sokka’s voice was too loud. Too angry. The words wrapped around Zuko like a vice, threatening to strangle him. His hands clenched, and he could feel the muscle in his bicep tightening against Sokka’s arm. Right. They were still touching. Zuko had nearly forgotten, as he’d been in that position for more time than he’d been able to recollect. 

Zuko was left entirely speechless. 

Sokka went on, “I figured that much was obvious when I didn’t return your stupid letters.” 

Zuko flinched. He remained quiet for a long time, fighting to subdue the inexplicable lump forming in his throat. Crying was weakness, and he would not let Sokka witness him doing so if he could help it. 

Sokka sighed. 

“What did I do to make you feel this way?”

Anger flared within the warrior at Zuko’s side. He looked at him, and immediately wished he hadn’t. Furious blue eyes bore into his own. The dim orange light of the fire painted Sokka’s skin a glorious gold. Zuko could not help but notice that Sokka was as beautiful as he was deadly. He banished the thought immediately. 

“Is it not enough that I just don’t like you? Do you really need a fucking explanation?” he demanded. 

“Yes, I _do_. I need to know how I can fix it,” Zuko pleaded. 

“You _can’t._ ” Sokka moved to face Zuko more fully, taking back the stability his arm had provided Zuko. He began to sway immediately, and Sokka caught him roughly by the shoulder to anchor him in place. After a moment, he said, “I don’t want you to _fix_ anything.”

Zuko stared at him. 

The look on Sokka’s face was worse than any of Zuko’s nightmares because it was _real_. Sokka was real and solid in front of him and he wanted nothing to do with Zuko. Fuck. Everything was just so fucked up. 

They watched each other for an eternity. Each searching the other’s face, willing the other to speak. Zuko shut his eyes, and when he opened them Sokka’s face seemed to have softened a degree. He almost dared to be hopeful. 

Finally, he broke the silence between them. “I don’t hate you, Zuko, but we’re not friends.” 

Any trace of hope inside Zuko was dashed in an instant. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> By the way, I'd been working from home temporarily due to the virus, and therefore, had more time at my disposal to write. I'm going back to work tomorrow, I'm still going to be posting as frequently as I can and I'm going to be working on this everyday, but there won't be a post everyday anymore.
> 
> Chapter title from Nandemonaiya (English version) - Radwimps


	4. Lightning in a bottle

Dim light began to filter into the borrowed room when Zuko opened his eyes. Dawn. He could not recall how he’d ended up in his bed, though it was morning and there Zuko was, dressed in pants appropriate for sleep with his hair down and fanned out over his pillow. How he’d had the wherewithal to manage all of this, he wasn’t sure. 

Luckily, his alcohol-addled mind had been kind to him and he could recall no dreams of any sort. 

_We’re not friends_ , Sokka’s words rang out in his mind and he grimaced. 

It was the last thing he’d remembered from the previous night.

“We’re not friends,” said Zuko softly to himself, trying the words on for size. They felt wrong in his mouth and they had a bad taste to them. He sighed and frustratedly tangled his fingers into his hair.

He wished Sokka would have talked to him about everything. Although, perhaps he did. The memories of the previous night were all too hazy after a point, maybe they had talked more about it and Zuko simply needed to try harder to remember. Somehow he doubted that, and to hope for such a thing was childish. Right then, he promised himself that he would no longer get his hopes up as he had the night before. It was both dangerous and _stupid_.

Zuko, by this point, was sure he couldn’t just _ask_ Sokka what had happened between the two of them. He already tried that, hadn’t he?

Each time Zuko analyzed his memories, he could not come up with a single incident that would have made Sokka this angry. Unless, of course, he’d never actually forgiven him at all. And if that were the case, why had he not just left him to rot at the Boiling Rock? Zuko already knew the answer to that question. Aang. Sokka would not have been so selfish as to let his personal prejudices risk the possible loss of the war. Zuko had not yet completed his training with the Avatar, and therefore he was still invaluable to them. That _had_ to be it. Sokka had never forgiven him for his actions before Zuko had joined their group.

Then it _was_ hopeless, after all. 

A knock sounded at his door. This was not the timid knock of Katara that he'd grown used to, and more than likely it would be one of his own men despite the rather early hour—far too early for breakfast. Something dire could have happened. Perhaps there was news Zuko needed to hear that could not wait until after he was ready for the day. Sitting up in bed, blankets pooled around his waist and Zuko frowned at the door. 

“Just a moment,” he called. 

Zuko had no shirt on, and he was certain his hair was a mess. He quickly pulled on the first tunic he could find—it was simple and black. If he was lucky, maybe his casual dress would send this intruder away. Pulling his hair into a loose ponytail, he moved across the room.

He opened his door and then immediately tried to close it. Zuko was _never_ lucky. Sokka thrust a hand out to keep it from shutting. Zuko gave him a fierce look. 

“What do you want?” 

Sokka gave him a once-over, his expression unreadable. “Nice,” he snickered. 

Rolling his eyes, Zuko crossed his arms as if to shield himself from Sokka’s judgmental gaze. Zuko asked again, “What do you _want_?”

“Katara asked me to make sure you’re okay, or whatever,” he replied. He watched Zuko carefully and with a confidence that Zuko nearly envied. His look, however, was contradicted by a hand picking almost nervously at the fabric on his hip.

Zuko could not be sure what this motion meant. Was there any chance that Sokka felt _remorse_ for the way he’d treated Zuko the night prior? He doubted it, and besides, Zuko had already vowed not to let himself hope for anything where Sokka was concerned. 

“You didn’t tell h—“

“Of course I didn’t, dumbass. You were _insanely_ drunk last night,” Sokka reminded him.

Zuko had been. And he had the gaps in his memory along with the headache to prove it. He lifted a finger to point at him. “You were drunk too.” Zuko’s tone was laced with accusation. 

“No. Not the way you were. When you fell asleep on me, I honestly thought you’d stopped breathing.” He looked like he'd almost smiled but seemed to catch himself at the last second. Sokka was making fun of him. 

_When you fell asleep on me._

Taking the bait, anger flared within Zuko and his hands curled into tight fists at his sides. The pure shame he’d felt in that moment triggered something akin to a fight or flight response, and Zuko’s body was built to choose fight. He swallowed hard and steeled himself. “Can you just go away?” he ground out. 

The malice that Zuko had been quickly acclimating to clouded Sokka’s cerulean eyes. Briefly, Zuko thought Sokka might have been about to punch him, though he remained contained. “Katara wants you to get ready and meet her by the docks when her class is over.” 

“Tell her I’m sick,” he said flatly. He did not have the capacity to be particularly good company today. Subjecting Katara—who had only been incredibly kind and patient with him this whole time—to this sour mood he was in would be needlessly cruel. 

Sokka pretended to consider this and shook his head. “I’ll tell her you’re lying.”

“Then I’ll tell her that you hate me.” Zuko paused for a moment and laughed bitterly. Then with as much sarcasm that he could gather, he amended the statement, “I apologize, I mean, I’ll tell her that _we’re not friends_.” 

Sokka took a step toward him as though he really _were_ going to hit him. Instead, he reached out to grip Zuko’s shoulder hard, just as he had the night prior to keep him from falling over. Zuko held his breath, but he did not flinch. He inclined his chin as if to convey that he would be prepared for any challenge presented to him. Sokka may be a warrior, but so was he. 

“Do you not understand how happy she is that we’re _both_ here at the same time? Do _you_ want to ruin this for her?” 

Frowning, Zuko shook his head vehemently and he could feel tendrils of his poorly tied hair coming loose around his face. 

Sokka stared at him. 

Somehow, it had not really dawned on him just how much the upcoming festivities would mean to Katara. Sure, the Southern Water Tribe was celebrating their upward movement, and the treaties would ensure a steady flow of much needed supplies. This, in and of itself, was something to rejoice in. But that’s not all this was to his waterbending friend. It was a reunion. So many of the people she cared for most would surround her in just ten days time, granted Aang actually made it there the day he claimed he was going to. Such a thing had not happened for Katara in far too long. 

Sokka was right, he really _couldn’t_ take that away from her. 

“You know, for being an _idea guy_ , this isn’t a very good one.” Scorn heavily coated the borrowed endearment, and Zuko could tell that it’d hit all the right nerves. “We could just _be_ friends.”

“No,” he said firmly, dropping his hand from Zuko’s shoulder as if he’d burned him. “We _can’t_.”

They stared at each other for a long while, neither wanting to admit defeat by looking away first. Zuko was no stranger to this kind of hostility, he was bred for it. However, that fact was difficult to remember when the opponent in question was someone that he cared deeply for. 

It was Sokka who broke the silence. “Well, all right then. Feel better, man,” he said slowly, an unspoken agreement to Zuko’s terms. Zuko got to pretend that he was sick in exchange for his silence in Katara’s presence. With nothing left to say, Sokka turned to leave as had been previously requested.

“Wait,” said Zuko softly. He silently cursed himself internally for opening his mouth at all, but even the spirits knew that Zuko needed answers, even if only one. “Can I ask you something?” 

Sokka’s eyes were on him again. He sighed. “I guess,” came his hesitant reply. 

“Why...” Zuko’s voice trailed off. His eyes shut for just a beat too long to collect himself. “Why didn’t you just shove me off when I fell asleep?”

A sound caught him off guard, it was a laugh. Or rather, a mockery of one. It was full of scorn, and Sokka’s smile did not quite reach his eyes. Zuko’s own eyes narrowed. Sokka was laughing at him, and he could feel a contemptuous warmth rise across his good cheek and ear. He _knew_ he should’ve just let Sokka leave. 

“Haven’t you been paying attention? I’m not here to break my sister’s heart.” Sokka rolled his eyes. “And besides, just because I don’t like you doesn’t mean I’m a monster. You were practically comatose.”

Zuko blinked. “So? That’s _none_ of your concern. You could’ve pretended you didn’t know I was going to fall. You could’ve just let me humiliate myself more than I already had,” he pointed out with a shrug. 

Zuko hardly knew what he was fighting for. What was he trying to convince Sokka of? What was he trying to convince himself of? That they really _were_ friends? Sokka didn’t want to be. 

_So, why bother?_

“Well, I didn’t. I don’t know what you want me to say. I took pity on you, that’s all,” he snarled. “Just leave it _alone_.”

“Fine.”

Zuko still had several questions, all of which might have to go unanswered forever. The other man, again, had nothing left to say to him. Sokka was gone, leaving Zuko to stand in his doorway by himself.

* * *

A steaming cup was placed before Zuko and he inclined his chin in thanks. 

“You are tired,” said Iroh. It was not a question, merely an observation. 

Zuko nodded. “You were smart to retire after dinner,” he murmured, making his best attempt at a smile.

Iroh chuckled. He was slow in pouring his own tea and inhaled the aroma deeply. The corner of Zuko’s mouth twitched up. 

“What happened yesterday, Nephew?” he asked patiently, though Zuko could see the concern written across his face.

Zuko froze, he felt suddenly very defensive. Iroh had not been seated near them for dinner the night before, so any news he had would've been secondhand. This worried Zuko all the more. People _knew_. “What did you hear?” he whispered, worrying at his lower lip with his teeth.

Iroh shook his head slowly. “I did not need to hear anything,” Iroh assured him. His uncle read him with another brief glance. “You are troubled.” 

Zuko sighed but he said nothing. 

“You know that you can always talk to me,” he asserted. 

“Everything is fine, Uncle. I just drank a little too much last night,” insisted Zuko. Without meeting Iroh’s eyes he knew that he could tell Zuko was lying. He also knew that his uncle would not push too hard. 

“Ah. That’s why you are hiding out in here?”

Zuko’s brow furrowed and he looked into Iroh’s eyes. “You’re acting like I haven’t regularly had tea with you since we got here.”

“You did not come yesterday,” Iroh reminded him. He took a small sip from his cup.

Remorse tied a neat little knot in his stomach; he’d meant to have tea with his uncle after he and Katara returned from their sledding. Zuko had been so shaken by his encounter with Sokka that he’d forgotten. Was Zuko, a grown man, supposed to admit that the source of his continued distress these past days were the result of just a failed friendship? Iroh knew something was the matter and Zuko was too ashamed to admit what that could be. 

Nodding again, Zuko dropped his eyes to his tea. _This was a mistake_ , he concluded, taking a long, hot drink. _He can see right through me, he always can._

His uncle had been waiting patiently for a reply. When it was clear Zuko would not offer anything, he spoke again, “You’ve barely slept since before we arrived here, Zuko.” 

“It’s nothing that I can’t handle,” he snapped. Zuko immediately wished he could take it back, if not the words then his tone. He knew Iroh was only worried about him, and yet he’d bitten his head off without hesitation. Zuko sighed quietly. 

Iroh hummed pensively. “For now,” he said simply.

Zuko did not want to think about what his uncle could mean. He was the leader of an entire nation of people, it was his job to be perpetually _fine_ , wasn’t it? Showing weakness, especially for something as insignificant as his lack of friendship with Sokka was out of the question. It was ludicrous. And yet, it was all Zuko could think about. 

They said nothing else, they only drank their tea in silence until it was time for Zuko to go.

* * *

That night, Zuko’s nightmare returned with a vengeance. This time, however, Sokka did not stop at merely scarring Zuko’s face. He was after his life as well. Sokka drew back to deliver his killing blow with that deep black blade, and just before he plunged it into Zuko’s chest, he smiled. 

Zuko woke up, his screams echoing back to him in the dark room. His whole body was on fire, and he was slick with sweat. Pulling his urn closer to his bedside, Zuko threw up into it until he had nothing left. 

He was beyond sick of this. Sick of being sick. He was also sick of _pretending_ to be sick. 

Without a second thought, he was out of bed and pulling on his warmest clothes. The only time he’d left his room that day was to have tea with his uncle. Even his food had been delivered to him. If he did not see anything outside of that building soon, he knew he’d go insane. 

It was particularly cold out that night and Zuko found himself wondering how people could live in such a place as this. He would never understand. However, to be a firebender in the South Pole was akin to a fish out of water. Perhaps his opinion was biased— 

“Can’t sleep?” 

The voice from behind made him jump, a dramatic gasp tearing from his throat. 

Of _course_. 

It sounded as though Sokka were stifling a laugh. 

“You just can’t seem to leave me alone, can you?” asked Zuko so softly that he was not sure Sokka would even hear him. Clenching his fists tightly, he turned to face the other man. The sight of him made Zuko’s heart race with something akin to fear despite the fact that Sokka did not appear to be armed. “Why are you _following_ me?”

Sokka rolled his eyes and the moon was so bright that Zuko did not miss it. “I’m not. I was on a walk.” There were no traces of deceit on his face.

“No offense, but I really don’t have the energy to fight with you right now.” 

Sokka actually _chuckled_ , and Zuko gaped at him. 

“I’m being serious, please just... don’t,” said Zuko in resignation. He frowned. 

Sokka held up his hands in a display of peace. “Hey, I never said I couldn’t be civil. I just—“

“You don’t like me,” Zuko finished for him. “Yeah, I get it.”

He didn’t. He didn’t get it at all, but it would be pointless to have the same conversation time and time again. 

Trying to decipher Sokka’s intentions was exhausting, and Zuko wasn’t lying when he’d said he did not have the energy to deal with it. Especially due to the fact that he was actively looking into the face of his own nightmares. A sick part of him almost missed Ozai plaguing his horrid dreams, because at least he understood that. He’d been used to it, and it did not make him violently ill each time he woke. Looking at Sokka _hurt_.

Sokka nodded obliviously, seeming satisfied that Zuko understood him. “So, whe—“

“Stop,” Zuko interrupted again sharply, unable to contain himself. He realized suddenly that he was so angry he was shaking. “You know, it’s really dizzying to keep track of your moods. Just _stop_ fucking with me, Sokka.”

Sokka flinched. “We should be civil for Katara’s sake,” he said quietly. 

“Katara isn’t here!” Zuko shouted. A moment too late, he remembered that it was the middle of the night. He scanned the area around them until he was satisfied that no one stirred as a result of his outburst. 

“Zuko,” he all but whispered. Sokka said nothing else, he simply stood there looking torn. Between what, Zuko could not say. 

“Is this fun for you, Sokka?” he sneered. “Is this some stupid game of yours that nobody but you knows the rules to?” Small flames erupted from his fingertips and immediately extinguished. Zuko secured his hands into fists once more, forcing himself to breathe and regain his self-control.

Sokka’s eyes were wide and trained on Zuko’s hands as though somehow he’d forgotten that Zuko was a firebender. He swallowed hard. “Are you done?”

Zuko felt the overwhelming urge to punch him in the face. “Fuck you.” 

Sokka’s eyes flashed with unbridled rage before he turned and stalked off. 

Zuko breathed a sigh of relief. He was sure that he’d just won, but he did not like the prize. A single tear spilled onto his good cheek, and Zuko quickly scrubbed it away. 

Part of him could not help but wonder if he should have let Sokka speak. 

“Sokka!” he called after him. 

He was too late. The Water Tribe warrior never turned around, and Zuko did not go after him. Even if he’d wanted to, he was not sure that he could get his feet to move. And what would he even say if Sokka _had_ come back? 

Swallowing hard against the lump in his throat, Zuko came face to face with the realization that _he_ had been the asshole in this encounter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know not a whole lot happened here, but I felt as though there needed to be something devoted to the aftermath of the fight. He needed to process things, even if only a tiny bit. He's still just as lost as ever.
> 
> Chapter title from Electric Love - BØRNS


	5. Spirits in my head

Zuko had a theory that alcohol might be the key to avoiding his nightmares. Either that, or extreme sleep deprivation was severely clouding his judgement. Though with three more consecutive nights of horrifying dreams under his belt, he was feeling rather desperate. Since his arrival, Zuko’s singular night of reprieve from this affliction had come to him the only night he’d consumed any alcohol. _It's worth a shot,_ he figured. 

This was Zuko’s decision as he poured himself a cup of wine that night under Katara's scrutiny. Her silence spoke volumes. Zuko offered her a smile in hopes that she would understand that he knew what he was doing this time.

At least, he _hoped_ he did. 

While Sokka upheld their agreement to be civil in his sister's presence, Zuko did not miss the occasional glare shot his way; he was so used to these looks by then that they hardly felt threatening anymore. Still, he carefully avoided the sinister gaze that was trained on him as he reseated himself. 

The evening was a celebration for the arrival of the Northern Water Tribe's representatives. And while it was nice for Zuko’s party to not be the only one present, he felt a sense of foreboding. The arrival of more guests only reminded Zuko that his vacation was soon to end. After that night, barely a week stood between him and the upcoming event. Then he would be a slave to his work once more, spending most of the early parts of his days in meetings until his eventual departure.

The three had scarcely said a word to each other since the feast began, and Zuko was already pouring more wine. Luckily, Sokka appeared to be matching his pace. This, in turn, left Katara quiet on the matter. 

Zuko’s eyes searched out his uncle. Iroh had been seated rather far away from him during meals since the night of Sokka’s return, but that was to give the trio their privacy. He might have been thankful for this had Sokka’s disdain for him not been so apparent. Iroh chatted easily with the strangers around him, frequently making them laugh and smile, sometimes with a pot of tea in his hands. It appeared to be so easy for him. When he spoke, he knew all the right words to say and people _wanted_ to listen. It was a quality Zuko both admired and envied.

“Zuko?” asked Katara uncertainly. 

His eyes snapped to hers, a sheepish smile spreading his lips. 

“You seem far away. Is everything all right?”

She was right. Zuko was practically mute in Sokka’s presence, and he’d been a fool to hope that someone as clever as Katara might not have noticed. His thoughts never stopped racing when the Water Tribe warrior was around, and he often did not trust himself to speak. Zuko had too many questions for him that were just waiting to leak out. 

“Yes, I’m sorry, Katara,” he said softly and a little too formally. “I was just—“

“Being nosy?” she tried to finish for him. Zuko had no real excuse prepared, and Katara was often good at providing them. She giggled and to Zuko’s surprise, she poured some wine for herself. It was the first time she’d ever done so in his presence. “Somehow I don’t think Mai would appreciate you checking out the women of the Northern Water Tribe.” 

Zuko gaped at her, feeling a violent blush paint his face. 

Sokka raised an eyebrow at this. 

Zuko drained his cup in one go despite the fact that it had still been entirely full. “I wouldn’t know,” he said slowly, not even bothering to defend himself. “I haven’t spoken to Mai in a very long time.” 

“Then you have a strange way of showing affection,” Sokka piped up with a snort, a cruel smirk twisting his lips.

“I’m not so sure my affections matter much,” he began. Feeling extremely uncomfortable, Zuko glared down at his plate. His fork moved things around, though nothing looked particularly appetizing anymore. “We broke up probably two years ago now.” 

The siblings looked stunned, and Zuko couldn’t help thinking that Sokka was quite a good actor. That was something he hadn’t really expected. 

“What? Why? What happened?” came Katara’s gentle interrogation. 

“I’d prefer not to talk about it here,” he murmured, glancing about the table. No one seemed to pay them any mind. 

With a contemplative look, Katara eventually nodded in agreement. “We’ll go to your room after dinner,” she decided. She regarded him with a firm stare as if to convey that she would not be taking no for an answer.

* * *

Zuko had insisted profusely that the story was not interesting enough to warrant such a field trip, and yet the three of them sat on Zuko’s bed a few hours later with two stolen bottles of wine in the center. 

The Water Tribe warrior’s presence in his room, after all that had transpired since his return to the village, was... weird. To say the least. Sokka was lying in Zuko’s _bed_ , on his side with his left arm propping him up in an unsettlingly casual manner. It was a lot for Zuko to stomach. However, he was there for the sake of his sister’s happiness. 

They steadily worked their way through the first bottle—shared entirely by Zuko and Sokka—as Zuko danced around the subject. In reality, he hated talking about his love life, or rather, lack thereof. Not that it was a sore spot, but rather an absence of anything at all, and so he continued to stall. 

Zuko uncorked the second bottle and drank from it, they had no glasses and were forced to drink straight from the thing like barbarians. Sokka reached for the wine next and Zuko handed it off, careful not to touch his hand. 

Katara looked at him imploringly for what seemed like the hundredth time that evening. 

“There really _is_ nothing to tell,” he insisted, knowing his time had run out.

“Humor me.”

“We just weren’t compatible, I think,” he admitted, drawing his knees to his chest. Zuko thought for a moment, trying to decide whether or not that was the truth. He sighed. “I suppose, at one point, we were a lot alike. But I’d changed and Mai... hadn’t.”

“She _did_ help us,” Sokka reminded him, pointing the bottle at Zuko for emphasis. 

She had. She’d defied Azula at the Boiling Rock to help them get away safely. It had been an act of true love and bravery that had shaken Zuko to his core. Aside from Iroh, Zuko had never imagined anyone would risk their own safety for him in such a way. At least up until that point. 

“She helped _me_ ,” Zuko corrected. “Her love for me was far stronger than her tie to any side of the war, and I’ll be forever grateful to her for that. But after everything, I... I don’t know. Things just fizzled out. I’m not even sure who ended it, maybe it was mutual.”

Katara took a tiny sip of the sweet liquor and nodded. She appeared to be almost disappointed that the story had, in fact, been so bland. “I guess I can understand that,” she said pensively.

Sokka’s smile looked almost genuine, and he said, “Yeah, well, she was _super_ boring.”

“That too,” agreed Zuko with a laugh. 

Talking to him was easier when Zuko’s brain was half-drowned in alcohol, he realized. Zuko could almost be fooled into believing their rouse himself; they each played their parts flawlessly that night. 

“So, has there been anyone else since?” Katara waggled her eyebrows suggestively, making Zuko laugh again. 

“No,” he answered quietly, all mirth instantly banished from his tone. Zuko took the bottle from Katara’s loose grip and drank for a long moment. “I haven’t really had the time, if I’m honest.”

Sokka appeared to be lost in thought when Zuko nudged his hand with the bottle. He shot him a perturbed look with no real weight behind it and took the offering. 

“We could find you someone while you’re here,” insisted Katara a little too loudly, her eyes alight with determination. This was the closest to drunk that Zuko had ever seen her, although she’d barely had even a glass at dinner, and he wondered briefly if they should even be condoning her drinking. Sure, Katara was technically an adult now, but only just barely. 

Stifling a yawn, Zuko shook his head. “What, so I can find someone who lives across the world from me? No thank you.” 

He shifted so that he was lying down with his head on a pillow, angling himself so he could still see Katara’s face beyond his raised knees. Zuko realized too late that this put his head closer to Sokka’s than he’d intended. And while there was still at least a foot of distance between them, Zuko felt awkward though he was too tired to care all that much. 

“Fair point,” said Katara. She grinned wickedly again. “But I’m not saying you have to fall in _love_.”

Zuko stared at her, instantly reddening at the implications behind the suggestion. 

“Katara!” Sokka exclaimed, shock covering every inch of his face. He grabbed one of the pillows Zuko wasn’t occupying and tossed it at her.

She caught it deftly and giggled. 

Zuko shut his eyes and pretended that he could disappear. “Can we talk about _anything_ else?” he moaned, covering his now feverish face with his hands. 

“Yeah, Katara, quit trying to corrupt Zuko’s innocence,” taunted Sokka, a smile clear in his voice. 

This was a side of Sokka that Zuko hadn’t seen since before Sozin’s comet had reared its ugly head. In fact, it was a side he’d thought he might never see again. The pure nostalgia that plagued him made his heart ache. None of this was real, and as long as he kept reminding himself of that fact, there would less pain later. 

Right?

Katara snorted and covered her mouth as if to hide the rude gesture that had already passed her lips. “Yeah, innocence. Sure.”

Zuko pulled a pillow over his face. “You guys have _infinitely_ more interesting love lives than I do, let’s talk about that,” he pleaded, voice muffled by fabric. 

“Probably true. Katara’s dating the most famous person alive." Sokka hesitated for a moment, and then added, "Not that I want _those_ kinda details. I still see Aang as that goofy kid we pulled out of an iceberg all those years ago and I’d like to keep him that way, thank you very much.” 

Zuko smiled.

While he couldn’t see Sokka’s face, Zuko could imagine every animated expression while he delivered his short monologue. Sokka truly had one of the most expressive voices Zuko had ever heard. The contrast was stark compared to most people he’d known back home in the Fire Nation. Especially compared to Mai. 

_Wait, what?_

He unburied his head to swiftly steal the wine back from Sokka, who glared at him, and Zuko drowned his ridiculous thoughts with it. 

“He’s really busy,” she said softly, her tone taking on a sad quality that sobered the mood of the party. “And I have my classes. You know how it is.”

It was Sokka who spoke up after a collective pause had made the air feel too heavy. “No, I actually _don’t_ know how it is,” he’d blurted. Something akin to anger tinged the edges of his words. “Have Master Pakku take over for a year. Be with Aang on all his save-the-world stuff. You deserve to do something for yourself, Katara. Have some fun for the first time in who knows how long, for spirits’ sake.”

While it lacked in eloquence, Sokka’s speech made sense. And Zuko found that he even _agreed_ with him. Katara was far too young to be working so hard everyday, she had more than earned herself a break. 

Katara looked unsure. “Can we talk about something else again?” she asked, casting her eyes downward. It was clear that, for now, she had nothing else to say on the matter. Likely, she needed time to even _begin_ considering such a thing. 

“We can go back to finding Zuko a girlfriend,” suggested Sokka. His eyes were rimmed with red in a way that implied he was rather inebriated, it made them look even more startlingly blue than usual. 

Realistically, he knew Sokka was only trying to lighten the mood, but he was also sure that making Zuko uncomfortable was a pleasant bonus for the warrior. He shot Sokka a warning glare. “Pass,” he said forcefully. 

Katara, thankfully, seemed not to have noticed the exchange. She looked to Sokka and asked pointedly, “How about you? Any news in the relationship department?”

Sokka’s thick brows drew together to form an unreadable expression. “Nah, nothing interesting.”

“Nothing at all?” she prodded. 

“Nope.”

Her gaze lingered on him a beat too long and she sighed. Zuko could tell without looking at her that Katara was still disappointed by the mediocrity of the discussion. Despite that fact, the waterbender took mercy on them both and steered the conversation to preparations for the festival. The topic was light, airy, and did not require anyone but Katara to speak. 

Zuko was barely listening, not that he had the energy to contribute anyway. He was incredibly sleepy and found that he had to work hard to think about anything at all. The sound of Katara talking was so calming and warm, like a gentle breeze coming off the sea back home in the Fire Nation. 

Zuko was _not_ sleeping. He was just resting for a moment.

* * *

Zuko’s alcohol theory could not have been more wrong. 

Screaming woke him up, and Zuko realized belatedly that it was his own. Without warning, there were hands on him; one pushing back strands of sweat-soaked hair from his forehead, and the other holding his shoulder tightly as if to steady him. The fingers were cool, extinguishing the false but lingering feel of freshly burned skin, remnants of his nightmare that eased almost instantly. 

He was blinded by the darkness, and Zuko’s fingers curled desperately around the wrists anchored to him. He gasped for air and feebly attempted to pull the friendly body closer. In his terrified state, he didn’t even wonder who could be tending to him, he just needed to feel safe. 

“Hey, it’s okay. It’s all right, you just had a nightmare,” came an almost soothing whisper, likely the person attached to those hands.

Zuko sighed in relief, his thundering heart growing marginally less frantic.

Suddenly Sokka’s face was inches from Zuko’s, and he screamed again. Supposing that he hadn’t woken up after all, he shoved Sokka away with as much force as he could manage and Zuko fell off the bed. He reached frantically for the urn, pulling it closer and lifted himself just enough to expel the contents of his stomach into it. 

No, Zuko was wide awake. And Sokka was in his room—and had been in his bed—for some unfounded reason. 

Sokka was there on the ground with him in an instant, a gentle hand rubbing Zuko’s back. “Should I get Katara? I’m still not sure if her healing works on sickness, but may—“

“No!” begged Zuko, far too loudly. The sound of the hoarseness in his own voice made him wince. “Please, please don’t tell her. It’s fine. This is fine, it’s just something that happens.”

“It’s _not_ fine, it’s— wait, something that happens? You mean, this has happened before?” Sokka probed, a strange mix of concern and anger warring in his voice. 

Zuko refused to look at him. 

“Zuko, does this happen every time you drink?” 

Zuko needed to find a way out of this, and Sokka had just gave him the map. He dipped his head in a single nod. “Yeah, if I drink too much. I think I just need to tone it down or something,” he lied easily, a shoulder lifting in a casual shrug. His stomach lurched again, making him heave dryly. Zuko steadied himself, and then found himself asking, “By the way, may I ask what the fuck you’re doing in my room?”

“I think we fell asleep and Katara left us here,” he admitted slowly, acting as though he hadn’t heard Zuko’s lie at all. “I woke up when I heard screaming, I didn’t know what was going on.”

“I see.”

“I wasn’t spying on you or anything,” he said, his tone unreadable. 

_What a peculiar thing to say,_ he couldn't help thinking. Had Zuko even been suspicious of that? Somehow, he doubted such a thing could have gotten past the confusion clouding his mind.

Still curved awkwardly around the urn, he craned his head up to get a better look at Sokka, which was considerably easier after his eyes had adjusted to the dark. Anxiety began to turn his already upset stomach. Sokka _knows_. He may not have the entire truth, but he knew enough to demolish the walls Zuko had carefully constructed. Sokka could destroy him if he wanted to. Zuko was not entirely unconvinced that he wouldn’t, despite the mysterious and confusing acts of compassion Sokka had shown him.

Zuko didn’t need a mirror to know how frightening he must have looked as he glowered at Sokka. “You’d better not tell _anyone_ about this,” he warned, his eyes flashing meaningfully to the urn he was still clutching.

“I won’t... but you should,” he all but whispered. 

Zuko flinched. He had a point, though he’d rather die than admit to such a thing. “Why do you even give a shit, Sokka?” he demanded. He was still breathing heavily, and the movement reminded him that Sokka’s hand was still on his back. 

“I...” Sokka’s voice trailed off as though he had no idea what to say. He looked lost, angry, and tired all at once. “That’s a very good question.” 

Zuko rolled his eyes. “You know, I’m getting rather sick of all your vague non-answers.” Now positive he would not throw up again, he sat up to be at an equal level in order to face Sokka more fully.

Sokka retracted his hand and Zuko immediately missed the warmth, the phantom pain of a missing limb. That friendly touch had been his lifeline, something to empower him in asking the questions he desperately needed answers to. Spirits, he _needed_ answers, maybe if he got them he could finally get some fucking sleep. 

“I don’t want to talk about this,” said Sokka unsteadily, his eyes shifting sidelong. 

“Why? Do you really think this doesn’t concern me as much as it concerns you? Could you really be that fucking selfish?” Zuko sounded desperate to his own ears, and for once, he didn’t care how weak it made him. 

At his most vulnerable, he sat there covered in sweat near a pot that contained his own vomit. Subconsciously, he pushed the thing further away from the two of them. What else did he really have to lose?

Sokka winced. “Why does it matter so much to you?” 

“Can you _stop_ asking that? It’s getting really tired,” mumbled Zuko, his voice taking on a much gentler quality than his previous attacks. He could tell this conversation would not go anywhere, at least not tonight, still he had to try. “Katara’s not around this time, so what’s your excuse?” 

“What?” Sokka snapped, pinching the bridge of his nose in an irritated manner.

Zuko swallowed hard, grimacing at the taste left in his mouth. “This is twice now that you’ve gone out of your way to show me kindness. Was it pity _this_ time too?” 

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said calmly. Too calmly. Deadly anger swirled within his eyes, a cobra waiting to strike out. 

“Maybe not, that’s why I’m asking you to explain it to me. Please, Sokka, I jus—“

“Shut the fuck up, Zuko,” he snarled, his face twisted into a mask of rage. In one lithe movement, Sokka was on his feet. 

_Don't—_

He left without a sound, and Zuko stared after him for a long while. Once he was positive the Water Tribe warrior wasn’t coming back, Zuko began to cry.

* * *

As the days passed, it became more glaringly obvious that Zuko may truly never get the answers he desired. Sokka did not speak to him at all anymore, and he’d thrown himself into project after project around the village to avoid seeing him. Sokka was now always the first to volunteer in joining the hunts, and he even began to aid in preparing for the festival. 

Sokka joined Bato in training the young would-be warriors, a project that had taken even more of his time. To not pass training to the young would be reckless and stupid. The war was over, but political battles over ideologies remained, threatening to resume the bloodshed. Preparation for such a thing would always be necessary. Sokka's cause was noble, but Zuko knew his real intention: avoidance, rather than benevolence. 

Even Katara had noticed just how absent her brother had been, and Zuko could see that it was taking a toll on her. Her false cheeriness never fooled him, and he found himself silently hoping the days would pass quickly. They were both more than ready for the festival to start, Zuko even more so because he missed Katara’s real smiles. 

Each day, Zuko still had tea with his uncle, who gently prodded Zuko to talk to him. Zuko _knew_ he needed help and he just could not bring himself to take the hand outstretched to him, because his own pride prevented him from ever opening up to his uncle. Each time he left, Zuko could barely stand to look at the sadness nestled deep within Iroh’s wise eyes. 

It was Zuko’s evenings alone after he retired to his room that were the most troublesome. Night after night, Zuko had his nightmares without any relief. He felt as though he’d die of exhaustion at any moment, and he had no fucking clue what to do. Even Katara had learned to stop asking if he was okay, because he’d tell her each time that he was fine and asked her not to worry. Perhaps everything would go back to normal when we was finally back on Fire Nation soil. It was a hope that he was clinging to for dear life. 

While he wanted to soak in his time with his friends as much as he could, he found that it would be nearly impossible if something didn’t give soon. 

Zuko was a dead man in a living vessel.

* * *

Three days before the festival, Zuko hit another second-wind much like the one he’d experienced the day Sokka arrived. He found that his spirits were lifted with this refreshed energy. 

Katara had lessons that morning, and Zuko was actually able to watch without the constant threat of dropping into a stupor. Katara's pupils, two small girls, stood before her learning to use the water whip, and though the lesson ran long Katara never lost her patience. Neither of her pupils managed to get the hang of it, one even started to cry, but Katara held patiently and compassionately to their learning.

Eventually ending the class, Katara encouraged the girls to practice the movements regularly before their next course. She then joined Zuko, immediately taking notice of his newfound liveliness. 

“Zuko, you look great!” The waterbender was beaming down at him. 

He rose from the icy ledge he’d been perched on and chuckled quietly. “Ah, so I look horrible most days?” he challenged, lifting his only eyebrow. 

Katara’s cheeks colored with embarrassment. “I mean... kind of. Yeah.”

“I’m going to take the high road here and change the subject.” Zuko was smiling and for the first time in days, it was genuine. 

Katara laughed. 

“Want to go for a walk?” He grabbed her gloved hand to pull her along before even hearing her answer.

“Of course I do.” She was smiling and she began swinging their joined hands around carelessly. Her delight was infectious. “So, where are we going?” she inquired excitedly.

Zuko smiled sheepishly. “Hey, I’m still new here. I, ah, thought maybe you could decide,” he began with about as much grace as a badgermole wearing boots. “Plus, you’re better at adventures than I am.” 

Katara barked out another laugh, and despite his violent blush, Zuko could tell that she wasn’t actually laughing _at_ him. He felt himself relax a degree. 

“In that case, I know a place you might like,” she told him. The waterbender quickened her pace, but she did not surrender Zuko’s hand. 

“Is it far?” 

“Kind of,” she answered. “But it’s worth it, I promise.” 

Zuko trusted her unconditionally. If Katara said it was worth it, he would not ask too many questions. Instead they chatted about the upcoming festival and how long they predicted the treaties would take before an agreement was reached. 

The weather was beautiful, or about as beautiful as was possible in a place made of ice. The sun warmed their wind-bitten cheeks and it made their travels infinitely more bearable. 

The walk _was_ long, and after a point, he wondered if maybe Katara had gotten them lost, or if perhaps she did not have a true destination in mind. All he could see ahead was ice and snowy mountainous structures. Even then, he said nothing. Zuko was along for the ride because he did have some energy that day, and he’d be damned if he didn’t use it all on his dear friend.

* * *

“Katara... what is this place?” Zuko asked, mystified. 

From the outside, the structure was wholly unimpressive, but inside it was nothing short of breathtaking. It was almost like something out of a dream. An enclosure made entirely of glittering ice surrounded the two of them, illuminated with brilliant blue light, no doubt due to the sun. In some places, the walls were so transparent that Zuko could look through to see the ocean and mountains in the distance. 

“They’re ice caves,” she explained. Katara’s eyes remained skyward, watching the ceiling above them sparkle like diamonds. The colors reflected magnificently in her eyes, dying them with more hues of blue than Zuko even knew existed. “There’s a lot of them near the village, but these ones are my favorite.” She paused, her cheeks reddened bashfully as though she were telling the most private and embarrassing secret. “I like to think I’m the only one who comes here. I know it’s not true, the hunters come to this area often for game, but it’s a place that still feels like mine.”

Zuko was touched that Katara would bring him somewhere so personal. “It’s so... It’s _beautiful_ ,” he whispered. “Thank you, Katara.” 

“Come on, let’s go further in!” she urged, reclaiming Zuko’s hand. 

Zuko stepped into shin-deep water and recoiled with a shudder. He frowned. Suddenly, he was very grateful for his cumbersome and water-resistant boots. He noted that he had stumbled into a river of water moving downward toward the direction in which Katara had been pulling him. 

She smiled apologetically and released him, but motioned unnecessarily, for him to follow. 

“Where does this lead us?” he inquired nervously. Despite the incandescent beauty of the cave surrounding him, a sense of unease enshrouded him like a cloak. Zuko was, quite literally, out of his element here.

“It’s a system of tunnels, and most lead outside, but not all. The caves are ever-changing with the weather, so we’ll find out together,” she assured him with a bright smile. 

He nodded and followed, carefully avoiding the river, though staying along its side. 

The rush of water sounded so peaceful and calming that tiredness began to creep back into the darkest reaches of Zuko's mind. If sleeping there wouldn’t cause him to freeze to death, he thought this would be a spectacular place for a nap. 

Bare fingers skated across the wall of the cave as he walked, and his hand came away wet. Fleetingly, he wanted to taste the water to see whether it would contain the salt of the ocean, but thought better of it. 

Zuko realized he’d been walking for a long time when he heard Katara’s voice. She sounded far away, too far to even make out the words. Positive he’d catch up eventually, Zuko continued to meander.

Suddenly, he stumbled, bits of ice crumbling beneath his feet and he sank just a bit. The structural integrity of the ground in that small spot was compromised—thankfully it was contained. The ice beneath him still appeared to be far from collapsing and Zuko disregarded the foreboding feeling that had blossomed in the pit of his stomach. 

With a frown, he scrutinized the area around his boots. Wedged into the ice beside the toe of his boot was a beautiful rock. One that would fit well in the palm of the hand. Careful not to disrupt the stability of the ground, he focused a fragment of his chi in his fingertips to melt the ice that held his stone in place. 

Zuko admired his treasure as it nestled coolly into the palm of his hand. It was a brilliant blue that rivaled the eyes of the Water Tribe people. He slipped the thing into a hidden pocket deep within the folds of his clothes against his heart. 

He pressed on in the direction he’d last heard Katara’s voice. The waterbender wasn’t in his line of sight, and Zuko vaguely wondered how long he’d been distracted by his private exploration. Without warning, he was no longer in the icy enclosure. His path had brought him outside of the caves, and Zuko scanned the area for Katara; she was nowhere to be seen. 

Movement caught his gaze from his peripheral vision. It was a group of Water Tribe hunters far in the distance, all donning their thick, blue outerwear and wielding spears. Without his permission, Zuko’s gaze lingered on Sokka who abruptly seemed to have sensed someone’s eyes on him. Just as their eyes met, Zuko could hear an entirely unfamiliar sound. It was close to the sound of wood splintering, but something was off about it. It was sharper. Zuko looked up and could see nothing amiss. 

He moved to take a step, and his body lurched as he sank into the ground the way he had just minutes before when he’d found his stone. This puzzled him, his sleep-deprived mind unable to make the necessary connections. He dropped lower again and his eyes were back on Sokka’s.

It happened as if in slow motion, but impossibly fast, all at once. The ice below him shattered, and Zuko plunged into immeasurably cold water that reminded him of the time at the North Pole when he was still chasing Aang. The feeling was paralyzing, and panic began to fill every cell in his body. The current beneath the ice was strong, and swiftly drew him away from the hole he’d just created in the surface. 

Zuko’s body came to life as the frantic need to breathe made his lungs start to scream. He swam against the current, ignoring the excruciating pain of the cold threatening to turn his bones into lead. With each stroke he attempted to propel himself forward, appearing to sink down instead. The current began to further weaken his body as he descended to the ocean’s blackened depths. 

_I’m going to die._

He tried to swim upward as the need for air grew incredibly dire, but his body and the clothes covering it were just so heavy. Zuko reached upward helplessly, as if there were anything at all he could gain purchase on. His cold-stiffened fingers met only more water. Zuko was about to explode, and before he could stop it, he drew in a deep breath. Instead of air, frigid water filled his lungs. 

_I_ am _dying._

The desperation that had built up within him had begun to dim. He was filled with something almost like peace as his body stopped its movements. It was getting... easier. The notion of dying stopped being scary, and instead bordered on serenity. Zuko was so, so tired and finally, he could get the rest he’d needed for weeks. 

_I’m sorry._

To whom was he apologizing? Likely, the few that he was leaving behind: Iroh, Katara, Aang, Toph, even Suki. Or perhaps those he’d lost along the way in one manner or another: His father, His mother, Mai, Azula... _Sokka._

_Perhaps this is my atonement for all I've done—_

__

__

There was so much Zuko had yet to see and do, but none of this mattered anymore. He didn’t have to feel stressed or worried ever again. He didn’t have to lead an entire nation. He was no longer the boy scarred both inside and out by his past. He would never have another nightmare again. Now, he felt very calm as he became one with the ocean. Zuko wasn’t even cold anymore. The spirits were calling him home and it was all too easy to go.

As the last of the air expelled from his lungs, Zuko went down.

Down..

Down...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry.
> 
> &yes, I did use this song because it was popular on TikTok for a while, thank u for asking.
> 
> Chapter title from Spirits - The Strumbellas


	6. Heaving through corrupted lungs

Zuko belonged to the ocean and the waters, it seemed, had no desire to give up their new prize. The current caressed him and held him as though he were something special, something to be _cherished._ Zuko was pulled farther down than he could have guessed the ocean even went, and then he went down farther. 

He was tired and he let the sway of the sea lull him gently to sleep. 

Just as he drifted off, he was vaguely aware of something gripping his outstretched hand. Was it the current pulling him upward? Could the ocean really be so fickle as to spit him out so soon after swallowing him whole?

That didn’t seem right.

The cold returned, so cold it was truly unbearable. A girl was screaming, and something pushed hard on his chest. Over and over, until he was sure his ribs would collapse and crush his fatigued heart. 

Zuko hadn’t even been asleep long enough to dream. It wasn’t _fair._ He had been so comfortable, so peaceful. Now, all he felt was pain. He was drowning despite feeling no water around him. No air could get in, and no water could get out. 

Death was not peaceful. Death was excruciating.

* * *

_After spending the evening learning the movements, Iroh had refused to strike Zuko with lightning._ What’s the point of learning all of this if I can’t be sure I can do it? _he wondered frustratedly._

_It was_ essential _for him to find lightning. And when he saw dark ominous clouds rolling into the distant mountains, Zuko was excited._

_Zuko climbed for what felt like hours. He couldn’t even see his ostrich horse where he’d left it at the base of the mountain anymore. Zuko was only acutely aware of the danger presented to him as he climbed the mountainside in the pouring rain with his singular goal. In that moment, getting to the top was the _only_ thing that mattered. _

_After hoisting himself onto the narrow ledge, Zuko dropped onto the ground for a moment to collect himself. The whole endeavor had left him winded and with aching muscles; he needed every ounce of strength he could muster. He had to stay vigilant if he were to properly redirect the lightning for the first time. This was all in preparation of taking on Azula for their inevitable next fight._

_A frown settling deeply into his cheeks, Zuko rose and turned his gaze skyward. He waited, watching lightning strike seemingly everywhere_ but _the peak of Zuko’s mountain. A growl that echoed the thunder radiated from his chest. _Of course,_ he thought bitterly. _

_Whoever said patience was a virtue clearly did not have someone like Zuko in mind._

_“You’ve always thrown everything you could at me!” Zuko shouted. He was challenging nature, the spirits, _anyone_ who could be listening. “Well, I can take it, and now I can give it back!”_

_Rain pounded at his face as he waited for something, anything to happen. He needed this. Didn’t the spirits understand that he_ needed _this?_

_“Come on, strike me!” he begged, his throat stinging from overexertion. “You’ve never held back before!”_

_Nothing happened._

_Zuko waited for what felt like a lifetime before he fell limply to his knees. Searing hot tears mixed with the rain on his cheeks. The spirits weren’t listening. Either that, or they ignored him._ Fuck _the spirits. Fuck it all. He was truly and completely alone._

_Zuko screamed until his voice gave out._

* * *

Zuko’s chest _hurt._ his head hurt. His lungs hurt. _Everything_ hurt. Something between a cough and a cry ripped its way from his throat. 

He felt himself being gathered up into a tight grip that could not even resemble a hug. It was too fierce. Too desperate. 

Zuko heard someone speaking, but couldn’t make out most of the words. Everything sounded dulled and fuzzy, as though he were trying to listen through an enormous heap of furs. A singular word that came through, the tail end of a question. 

“...Breathing?”

Despite the fact that the reply was as garbled as the rest, Zuko still strained his ears to piece together anything resembling normal speech. He could not even be sure if the voices belonged to one person or multiple. 

A hand dragged over his face to push wet hair from his cheek which had already begun to freeze to the skin.

_Where am I?_

He could not say the words aloud. Nothing worked. It was as if his entire body was either bound or broken. And... wet? He was drenched from head to toe, and water continued to drip onto his face and into his icy hair. Zuko was freezing, and he was _incredibly_ tired. 

In an instant, he felt dry. As though something had leeched every bit of moisture from his clothes and skin. _Thank you,_ he sent his silent gratitude to the spirits. Still, his body jolted from the frigid bite that remained and he attempted to push closer to the body curled around his own. Anything in order to quell the convulsion. Nothing helped, it was as though the chill came from within him, radiating out in a way that could never be contained. 

Then there was more talking, or rather something like a chant. The voice repeated the same sounds over and over, and they sounded impossibly close by. He could almost feel them rattle inside his bones until they cleared into something that made sense. 

“Zuko, wake up. Please wake up. Wake up. Wake up. Wake up...”

_Wake up? I am awake. What are you talking about?_

He tried to speak, to turn his thoughts into words, but nothing happened. It was so cold, his time _had_ to be running out. Or perhaps everything was just cold after death. After the warmth of life had drained from his body, was cold all that was left? Were the spirits cold?

He was not sure how long he stayed there, suspended somewhere between life and death before his eyelids began to flutter, opening slowly. The brightness that greeted him made his head ache even more, and his eyes burned. Perhaps had been crying, but that didn’t seem right. Zuko’s vision was clouded, as though a film had formed over his eyes. He tried to squint, tried to blink it away, and eventually the image before him began to settle. 

Blue eyes bore intensely into his still-foggy ones. He could see relief register in their oceanic depths, and then tears began to gather in them. Zuko had no idea what any of it meant. 

The arms around him belonged to Sokka. Zuko was unable to recall how they even came to be that way. Sokka looked beaten and broken, as though he’d been through a great battle but Zuko could see no immediate injury. The only abnormality was Sokka’s hair hanging down out of his usual wolf tail in a damp, tangled mess around both of their faces.

“Sokka?” Zuko rasped out. 

In an instant, Zuko was plunged back into darkness.

* * *

_The metal door creaked open, letting in a burst of balmy warmth. Instead of easing the chill of the cooler, it only reminded Zuko just how cold he was despite his Breath of Fire. But none of that mattered in the slightest, the important thing was that Zuko had completed his task._

_Sokka stared down at him through a borrowed guard’s helmet. “I can take you back to your cell if you’ve learned your lesson.”_

_Zuko released a small huff of flames from his mouth and smirked. “Yes, I have,” he offered. Zuko uncurled the edge of his shirt to reveal dozens of screws and bolts, along with the wrench Sokka had given him before his punishment had been doled out. “_ Completely. _”_

_Sokka leaned in closer to him, glancing sidelong to ensure that no real guards were encroaching. He pushed the mask of his helmet from his face, and murmured, “I got Suki and Chit Sang out of their cells a few minutes ago. They’ll be waiting for us at the shore.”_

_Sokka smiled at him._

_Zuko froze. “Someone’s coming,” he hissed. Without warning, he grasped Sokka’s shoulder and pulled him into the cooler with him._

_Sokka’s face collided with Zuko’s collarbone, his helmet digging sharply into the bone. He didn’t dare move, his arms circling Sokka protectively. The sound of the footsteps had not been clear, and Zuko was unsure how close these interlopers were to them. Regardless, Sokka drew backward, forcing Zuko’s arms to drop to his own sides. Sokka turned slowly, peeking through the crack in the door to survey the situation._

_“Yeah, new arrivals coming in at dawn,” came the gruff voice of a guard, presumably speaking to a comrade._

_“Anybody interesting?” the other, a female guard, asked in reply._

_Interest piqued, Zuko moved slightly closer to Sokka in order to hear the conversation more clearly._

_“Nah, just the usual,” the first guard began. “Some robbers, couple traitors, some war prisoners. Though, I did hear there might be a pirate!”_

_Sokka’s head snapped around to look at Zuko, his eyes wide with surprise._

_“No foolin’?” The female guard sounded impressed as the two likely rounded the corner, their voices quieting exponentially._

_It was Zuko who spoke first. “War prisoners. It could be your father,” he suggested, a sense of hope blooming in his stomach._

_Sokka’s thick brows drew together and he hung his head in contemplation. “I know,” he breathed out sadly, shutting his eyes._

_Zuko did not understand, this was why they’d come. Their mission was to save Sokka’s father, and now there was a chance he’d be within reach. Sure, they’d had a rather solid plan, one that meant freedom for all of them, but this changed things. Didn’t it?_

_“Well, what should we do?” Zuko asked. He wanted to clasp Sokka’s shoulders, remind his friend that he was there for_ him _. That no matter what was ahead of them, Zuko was with him. Instead, he did nothing. “Are we going ahead with the plan, or are we waiting another night?”_

 _“I don’t know.” Sokka shook his head. The war within him was plain on his face. “Is it right for me to risk Suki’s freedom,_ all _of our freedom, on the slim chance that my dad is gonna show up?”_

_It was not Zuko’s next thought that surprised him, but rather the absence of thought. He would do anything that Sokka decided because he wanted him to be happy, to be able to see his father again. Zuko’s freedom be damned, he was here for _Sokka.__

_Was this what true friendship felt like, to willingly risk life and limb just to see a loved one smile? In that moment, Zuko thought that it might be._

_“It’s your call, Sokka.”_

_Sokka shut his eyes tightly._

* * *

When Zuko’s eyes opened, it was a stark contrast to the brightness he’d experienced last time. _Was that even today? Was it even real?_ he wondered. _A dream, or maybe a new nightmare?_ There was no way to tell. 

The room was unfamiliar and dimly lit with candles, the light bathing everything within sight shades of rich gold. He tried to move, though he found that he was far too weak and the fur pelts piled on him felt so impossibly heavy. The frost had cleared from inside his bones, and he was _warm._ Zuko wasn’t sure that he’d want to move even if he could. 

Zuko heard low voices, and his eyes slid from side to side to scan the room. He could see no one, but they had to be nearby. Every sound echoed and distorted as though he were under water, and he was unable to sort any of the words out. 

_Water._ Zuko froze. Vaguely, he recalled something important that had to do with water, but he couldn’t quite place it. He strained to remember, and his head began to ache. 

Faces appeared before Zuko’s eyes. An unfamiliar elderly woman wrapped in bright blue furs abruptly pressed a wrinkled hand to his forehead. She shook her head sadly and said something in a low voice that Zuko could not understand. 

His eyes shifted to the right meeting Sokka’s, leaning very close to his face. So close, in fact, that for the first time Zuko noticed the faint dusting of freckles along his cheekbones and the bridge of his nose. From a distance, they melted into his tawny skin with nary a trace. Oh. Zuko truly understood what Suki saw in Sokka, the warrior was as beautiful as his sister, if not more. Sokka was speaking to him now, his eyes full of some indiscernible emotion. 

_Sokka, I can’t hear you,_ Zuko wanted to say. His lips moved but refused to make the words. Zuko’s body was little more than a tomb in that moment. He wanted to scream, he wanted to thrash, hit something, do anything to prove his body was more than a useless heap of bones and skin. Sokka ran a thumb across the corner of Zuko’s good eye. Zuko was crying? _Why?_

Zuko then realized what that look in Sokka’s eyes had been. Pity. 

Sokka squinted, seeming to be thinking hard about something. Zuko could practically see an idea pop into his head as Sokka’s eyebrows raised. He looked into Zuko’s eyes and pointed to his own ears and then pointed to Zuko. 

_Ah. He’s asking if I can hear him. Finally._

With great effort, Zuko slowly turned his head from one side to the other. Exhaling a ragged breath, Zuko tried to speak again. His lips twitched, and his vocal cords screamed in agony as he tried to make something come out. Zuko’s lungs were set ablaze with the effort, and they ached in a way he hadn’t known to be possible. 

Callused fingers pressed to Zuko’s lips, and Sokka shook his head. 

Zuko huffed out a sigh. 

From beneath the furs, Zuko could feel a rough hand slide into his. Sokka’s expression was soft and that felt foreign to Zuko, but he couldn’t quite place why that was. 

Zuko’s brain was on fire, and nothing made sense anymore. In fact, he’d begun to feel increasingly warm all over the longer he was awake. Sweat beaded above his upper lip as well as pooling uncomfortably along his entire body, soaking him in places he hadn't known he could even sweat. Perhaps the ice that had melted in his marrow was boiling and slowly cooking him from the inside out. 

The older lady returned—not that Zuko had even realized she’d left the room—and she had Katara in tow. They spoke in low voices to each other, seemingly to keep Zuko from hearing. As if he could. 

_Katara._ He wanted to smile at the Water Tribe girl and failed miserably. She drew closer to him with tears shining in her eyes. Were her tears for Zuko? He wished dearly that he could console her. Such a wonderfully lovely person should not have to cry. He wished to shield her from anything that could possibly ail her, he wished to banish every fear and doubt. More than anything, he wanted to replace that sad look with only the purest happiness. His useless prison of a body kept him from doing anything beyond staring at her and he hated himself for it. _Don’t cry for me, Katara. Please._

She gathered his face in both hands, her fingers grazing his scar. Zuko’s body flinched deeply of its own accord, and his hand somehow squeezed Sokka’s. He couldn’t stand to be touched _there_ , even by his own best friend. It was a wound that had never quite healed right in his heart. Thankfully, Katara seemed not to have noticed, and she placed a gentle kiss upon his forehead. 

His panicked eyes sliding to meet the warrior’s, he could see that Sokka looked perplexed. Did he understand what Zuko was attempting to convey? Sokka spoke to his sister in a low voice and Katara only nodded in understanding. Zuko thought he'd heard Iroh's name mentioned, but had no way to confirm this. Something like shock and embarrassment colored her expression, and she hurried out of the room. 

Sokka nodded at Zuko. And while he knew Zuko couldn’t quite hear him, he began talking. Zuko watched his lips move as he listened to the distorted sound of the other boy’s animated voice. He could feel the hand around his tighten every so often, likely to punctuate a point. Even when Zuko couldn’t understand him, Sokka was an excellent storyteller. 

His whole body began to relax and Zuko was very aware of how incredibly tired he felt. He vaguely wondered how Sokka could even stand to touch him at his current temperature; his skin continued to sizzle. The scars on both his face and chest were white hot spots of pain, and still he felt himself drifting. He gripped Sokka’s hand again before he was abruptly dragged into a fitful sleep. 

* * *

_Zuko stood at the ready, entirely unafraid. He knew the deck was stacked against him, but in his eyes, he wasn't just a weak child anymore. If he could save an entire unit by beating the general in Agni Kai, Zuko would try with everything he had. The safety of his people was entirely priceless to him._

_The man turned to face him and Zuko’s blood ran cold._

__No. __

_He blinked rapidly, as if he could clear away the image before him to reveal his true opponent._

__It can’t be. __

 _His eyes immediately began to sting with the threat of tears, and he swallowed hard. Zuko didn’t understand. Why was_ he _there? Zuko had been challenged to Agni Kai with the general he’d spoken out against, hadn’t he? This just didn’t make sense._

_Zuko could feel fear slowly turn his blood to ice. He could could not move. He could not think. He could scarcely breathe. This was all wrong. Zuko had been so ready, and now all of his preparation was for naught. Anxiety twisted Zuko’s insides into a series of ugly and complicated knots._

_“Please, Father, I only had the Fire Nation’s best interests at heart.” The words came of their own volition, leaving his lips before he even had the time to think about them. “I’m sorry I spoke out of turn.”_

_Fire Lord Ozai began to walk toward Zuko slowly. Zuko had never felt so exposed in his life._

_“You will fight for your honor,” his father ordered. A mask of cold indifference covered his entire face as he regarded Zuko the way he would a common beggar on the streets._

_Desperation possessed his entire body as Zuko dropped to the ground in a bow. His father was not a forgiving man, though he allowed the smallest and stupidest part of himself to hope Ozai would show mercy to his own child. “I meant you no disrespect. I am your loyal son.”_

_“Rise and fight, Prince Zuko,” the Fire Lord demanded. He came to a halt before Zuko, looming over him menacingly._

_Zuko turned his eyes to the ground. He could feel himself shaking, and he tensed his body in a failed attempt to quell the motion. Did his father_ truly _mean to fight him? Was this not just some attempt at degradation to humble him? He would watch his tongue going forward, and Ozai_ had _to know that. Zuko required no punishment, this public display of humiliation had been more than enough. So what was this?_

_“I won’t fight you.”_

_As his father began to speak, Zuko looked up at him with tears shining in his eyes, spilling over the moment he dared to blink. “You_ will _learn respect, and suffering will be your teacher.”_

 __No. Please— __

_As Ozai began to burn the hubris out of him, Zuko screamed._

* * *

Zuko awoke with a strangled cry tearing from his throat. 

Still dimly lit, the room around him looked familiar. The lack of windows made it impossible to determine the time of day. Zuko’s heartbeats returned to normal and he could hear soft breathing coming from beside him. 

He could _hear_. Very clearly, too. Relief washed over him. 

Flexing his fingers, he realized he could move with more ease than before. His tendons ached with the movement, as though he hadn’t moved in months. Nestled in his grip was another hand; one that did not belong to him. 

Sokka’s hand. 

Zuko froze. _Why is_ he _here? Why am_ I _here?_ he wondered dimly. The line between dream and reality had become so muddy that Zuko tried not to think too hard about the display before him. Sokka was sitting in something resembling a chair covered in too many fur pelts and he was leaned far forward, his head pillowed upon his free arm on the edge of Zuko’s bed. He was fast asleep. Zuko could not imagine that the position was comfortable. 

From beside him, a voice, Iroh’s voice said, “You took quite the fall, didn’t you, Nephew?”

Zuko jolted slightly out of surprise. The old man was to Zuko’s right, the opposite of Sokka. Zuko’s head snapped to meet his eyes. “What are you talking about?” he croaked softly. His throat was dry and it hurt as though it’d been burned.

His uncle’s brow wrinkled into a perplexed look that made him look, for a moment, positively ancient. Iroh seemed to be trying to find the proper words. 

“Where am I, Uncle?”

Iroh sighed. “This room is for healing,” he explained, gesturing around him to the room heavily adorned in furs and large clay jugs. The place was still entirely too warm. His uncle paused for a long time, looking very tired. “Do you _remember_ that you fell through the ice, Zuko?”

Before, he'd recalled something important that had to do with water, and now he remembered what it was. 

“I fell through the ice,” he echoed. 

Iroh nodded. “Yes, you fell through the ice,” he reiterated gently, as if to firmly drive the point home. “We almost lost you, and it is taking you a long time to find your way back to us.”

Zuko blinked. “You’re not making any sense,” he whispered. His fingers curled instinctively tighter around Sokka’s, and though both their hands were slick with sweat, he refused to let go. “I remember going to the ice caves with Katara, I remember her disappearing, and I remember that it was really, really cold, and... Oh, I see.”

His uncle’s eyes were bottomless pools of sorrow. “You are very lucky to have such capable friends, Zuko. I don’t know what I would have done if you had not made it.” His tone was heavy with unshed tears.

Zuko’s teeth worried at his chapped lip as he avoided his uncle’s gaze. The prickle at the back of his eyes told him that he was an inch from crying himself.

“Well, I know you don’t want to be the Fire Lord, but you’re more than capab—“

“You _know_ that is not what I meant,” Iroh chided with an edge to his voice. 

Zuko sighed. He did know. His uncle loved him more than anyone ever had, and likely more than anyone ever would. Iroh regarded Zuko as one of his own, and the man could not handle the loss another son. Guilt plagued Zuko as he imagined Iroh donning the Fire Lord’s headpiece as he slowly fell apart from the inside out. He forced the thought from his head. That was just too hard to even consider.

Zuko watched Sokka for a moment to ensure he really was sleeping—he seemed to be. “What do you mean by capable friends? Katara saved me, I’m sure, but...” his voice trailed off. He wasn’t even sure what he wanted to ask. Zuko’s thoughts were laden with a thick fog.

“It was young Sokka who pulled you from the water,” Iroh supplied for him, looking almost confused. It was obvious that he failed to see why this was relevant in any way.

Zuko’s brow furrowed as he considered this. He dimly remembered seeing Sokka when he’d been at the caves, but the Water Tribe warrior had been very far away. He was _sure_ Sokka hadn’t gone with them to the caves. Zuko eyed the boy sleeping soundly beside him suspiciously. “Sokka pulled me out of the— That’s impossible,” he insisted, shaking his head indignantly. “It had to have been Katara. Katara and her pretty, pretty waterbending. Of course _she_ could save me, no problem.”

_What am I even saying? Why can’t I shut the_ fuck _up?_

The corner of his uncle’s mouth quirked up. “It was Katara who told me. You had fallen deep into the water, and when Sokka had pulled you out, you were all but dead. He had to work hard to restart your heart while Katara drew the sea water from your lungs.” 

_Sokka?_

“Restart my heart...” he repeated numbly. Zuko swallowed hard. He’d truly almost died, or rather, he supposed he _had_ died. And Sokka _saved_ him? It all seemed rather unbelievable, but his uncle wasn’t really known for lying to him. Still dumbfounded, Zuko found himself speaking his thoughts aloud, “No. Impossible. Why would he...”

“I know it is a lot to take in, Nephew, what you went through was something very traum—“

“You don’t understand,” he interrupted, and then flinched out of guilt. He really was being rude but he couldn’t help himself. His head was swimming and every thought was blurted out entirely unfiltered. “Sokka _hates_ me. There’s no way he would... there’s just no way he’d...” Hot angry tears spilled out over his cheeks before he'd even realized his eyes were wet. 

Iroh looked thoroughly bewildered. He didn’t speak for a very long time as he clearly attempted to piece things together. “Is _this_ what’s been ailing you this entire trip?” he asked softly, and was undoubtedly frustrated with Zuko’s sense of priority. He’d been trying to explain what had happened to Zuko, who couldn’t seem to pay attention long enough to make any headway. 

“I—It’s not the only thing,” Zuko protested weakly, his throat suddenly feeling very dry. In addition to his inescapable lack of focus, he found himself entirely unable to lie in that moment, and it was _terrifying._ He shook his head in disgust with himself. “I’m so weak. So, so weak and stupid, and I don’t deserve any sort of title. I’m still just a dumb kid, I’m just bigger now. I’m a dumb kid trying too hard to make friends, and I’m trying even harder to keep them, even the ones who don’t want me.” He sounded so lost and afraid. And he didn’t _care._

Iroh sighed heavily, shaking his head. “Zuko, the boy does not hate you. Stop trying to find enemies where there are not any,” he said patiently, his expression softening exponentially.

A tiny, pathetic sob forced its way from Zuko’s still-tender throat. “You just... you don’t understand.”

“Do _you_ understand?” Iroh countered. Just like that, the old man was the picture of patience once again. 

“I don’t,” he admitted, scrubbing away his tears with the hand that was not still nestled in Sokka’s. Thinking too hard about the contact between them hurt his head. It hurt, and it all made no sense to him. _Why is he here?_ he wondered anew. _Am I having another dream? That’s the only thing that’d make sense._ He tried to release the Water Tribe boy’s hand and found that his fingers simply refused to move; as though his body had decided that this feeble connection was entirely essential for survival. He continued to _not_ think about it. Zuko released a ragged breath. “But I wish I did.”

“Have you considered asking him?” 

Zuko snorted at that. “Why didn’t I think of that?” he sneered, voice dripping with sarcasm. He winced. Iroh didn’t deserve scathing words, and Zuko knew he only wanted to help. It wasn’t as though Zuko had made him privy to the situation at hand, even during their daily tea. Every word that dripped out of him next came of their own accord and without his permission. “I’ve tried, Uncle, I’ve asked him over and over what I’ve done to make him despise me, and he just... won’t tell me.” 

Iroh nodded thoughtfully. “I see. Perhaps, Zuko, this has nothing to do with you at all. Sokka might be going through something you cannot understand, or it might be something he is not ready to share. Do not push him too hard, you might only push him away instead,” he mused. Iroh reached over to clasp Zuko’s shoulder reassuringly. “It’s nearly impossible to mend a bridge when one side disappears.”

 _Nothing to do with me?_ Zuko had to stop himself from laughing. _We’re not friends._ Sokka’s words rattled around in his head on repeat from the second they’d left his lips. The statement had been steadily driving Zuko mad, not that he could say any of this to anyone else. This was Zuko’s burden to shoulder alone. _It seems pretty fucking personal to me,_ he thought bitterly.

“I never know what you mean when you get all cryptic like that,” Zuko said, pinching the bridge of his nose in irritation. He felt too raw. Too exposed. Zuko was incredibly dizzy and he had no desire to talk about such a sensitive subject anymore. “Uncle, how long have I been in this room?”

Iroh looked uncertain, the abrupt change in topic making him pause for a long while. “It has been two days since you were pulled from the ice.”

“Why can’t I go back to my guest room?” he asked with a tired sigh. He felt heavy and weightless all at once, as though he were in a large body of water... again. The only anchor he had was Sokka’s hand tying him to a rapidly unraveling reality. “I didn’t drown. I’m alive, I’m alive... And I’m awake.”

Iroh looked incredibly concerned and leaned in to press a firm hand to Zuko’s forehead. He shook his head. 

“Why do people keep doing that? They touch me, they shake their damned heads, and then they look sad,” he grumbled. Again, his fingers twisted tighter around Sokka’s hand. Zuko choked on a sob, but forced himself to continue, “Everyone’s acting like I’m dead already... and what if I am? What if I _am_ dead? What if I’m at the bottom of the ocean and this is just a shitty mockery of real life? What if... Iroh, am I a spirit?”

 _I sound like a fucking buffoon, and I just_ can’t _shut the fuck up,_ he thought. Tears continued to flow freely, threatening to drown him entirely. 

Alarm filled his uncle’s eyes, and he made soft shushing sounds in an attempt to calm Zuko’s wild babbling. “Zuko, please listen to me,” he urged. “I told you this is a place for healing. You are here because you are gravely ill. You have a terrible fever, and you must stay where you are to rest and to break this sickness. Please, for your people... For me.” 

He ignored Iroh's request. Zuko snickered, and it only just barely registered that Sokka had begun to stir. “A fever? Is that all?” He began to laugh even harder. “I’m a fucking firebender, of _course_ I have a fever. I’m a living, breathing fever!” He tried to stand up. 

In an instant, Sokka was on his feet. His hand tore from Zuko’s, immediately leaving cold sweat in its wake. “Zuko.”

Zuko was unsure whether it had been Sokka or Uncle Iroh who had said his name. Perhaps it’d been both. He couldn’t stop _laughing_. His body lurched as he doubled over in fits of crazed mirth, and the flames of the candles grew blindingly bright. 

The two men worked to restrain Zuko as he continued to howl with laughter, tears streaming down his face. His fingers, now all free, ignited with erratic orange flames. 

“Zuko,” said Sokka softly. He was very near Zuko’s ear, his hands weighing heavily upon both shoulders to keep him stationary. “Please, please calm down. You need rest.”

“Get... Off!” Zuko ordered between giggles that bubbled out of him entirely unbidden. He’d truly and completely lost his mind. Zuko was absolutely unhinged. _Fuck._ Fuck. _I’m just like Azula, aren’t I?_ He laughed harder. 

Sokka and his uncle looked at each other with mirrored expressions of panic, and it was the funniest fucking thing Zuko had ever seen. 

“Zuko, remember all those questions you’ve been asking me recently?” Sokka asked desperately, his bright blue eyes alight with fear. He gripped Zuko’s shoulders tightly. “If you rest some more, I promise I’ll tell you anything you want to know. _Anything._ ” 

Had Sokka heard his entire conversation with his uncle? Unlikely. Still, Zuko was shaken. 

He nodded almost imperceptibly. It was as though all the air had left Zuko’s body in an instant. He sagged into his mountain of pillows bonelessly. He stared at Sokka. “Do you promise?” Zuko whispered. The room had gone incredibly quiet and Zuko had no idea why or even how. It’d felt so full and boisterous just a moment ago. Was it just his own laughter that had filled the room to the brim? 

Sokka nodded, releasing one of Zuko’s shoulders to brush his fingers lightly along his jawline. “Yeah, I promise.” 

Zuko closed his eyes, melting into the touch that felt deliciously cool against his feverous skin. A manic giggle burst from his lips, cleaving through the extreme stillness of the room. He laughed until he was pulled into the darkness of sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was so difficult for me to write, and I just hope it reads the way I'd envisioned. 
> 
> Also, thank you for all your kind comments thus far! I'm so incredibly touched each time someone takes the time to leave any sort of feedback.
> 
> Chapter title from Youth - Daughter


	7. Deconstruct yourself

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m sorry if this feels repetitive, this was a rough one for me. This next part was going to be one chapter, but it would’ve been far too long. Instead, it’ll be broken up into 3-4 chapters. Thank you for being patient with me.

Everything was bright and a little too cool-toned. Zuko was still in the South Pole, he realized. He awoke in his own bed in his own guest room. _Was all of it just one long and weird dream?_ He couldn’t be sure. At least, that is, until he attempted to move. It felt as though he’d been trampled by a stampede of elephant mandrill, and Zuko let out a raspy groan as his body tensed. 

The bits and pieces of memory he had were hazy and nothing seemed to quite fit together. This _felt_ remarkably dreamlike to him. Everything seemed wrong, as if he didn’t belong here or even in his own skin. 

_Where’s Sokka?_

Zuko faltered. What made him think _that?_ He looked around, and sure enough, there was a chair pulled up to his bedside. It was one of the two he and Katara often sat in while they chatted. The chair was empty. And so was Zuko. _Why?_

“Oh! You’re awake!” The voice did not belong to Sokka or even his uncle. It belonged to Katara. He looked over to see her seated at his desk, a steaming pot of tea and two full cups before her. Proof that Iroh had recently been there after all. 

Zuko cocked his head in confusion. “What? Katara, how’d I get in my bed?” he croaked. Someone had scraped out his throat with lava rocks, he was sure of it. Zuko grimaced. 

The waterbender’s expression was very soft, almost sad. “We had to move you when the festival began,” she said slowly, seeming strangely unsure. It was as if this were information she wasn’t permitted to divulge. 

“The festi—No.” Zuko shook his head incredulously, eyes going wide. “No, it doesn’t start for another couple of days.”

Katara looked rather pale, which was an impressive feat for her dark complexion. She moved to sit on the edge of his bed, a hand settling on his calf in a soothing manner. Zuko was instantly suspicious. “Zuko, you’ve been asleep, well... _mostly_ asleep for five days now,” she whispered. The waterbender paused for a long moment and a faint smile traced her lips as she said, “Your fever broke sometime early this morning. Did you know you say some really weird and scary things in your sleep?”

Zuko decided to put a pin in that last bit for the time being, because he did _not_ talk in his sleep. "Five days?" he asked in disbelief. 

She nodded and said, "Your body went through a lot after you..." 

“I fell through the ice,” he finished numbly with no hint of inflection in his voice. 

Katara nodded again.

 _Not a dream then,_ he figured. The memories remained disjointed and uncomfortably murky.

“You did. And you’ve been very, very sick since then. I've never seen a fever like that in my entire life,” she told him, looking wildly uneasy. Lowering her eyes, Katara uncharacteristically picked at the skin around her nails. 

"I feel fine now." 

"Good, that's so—that's really good," she chirped, still fidgeting awkwardly. She looked like she had a lot to say while being too nervous to say anything at all. 

_Why is she being so weird?_

“I....” Zuko trailed off, unsure of what to ask first. Realistically, Zuko knew he should ask about his condition, or the meetings that have inevitably begun, and even about Aang who would’ve arrived already. Where _was_ Aang, anyway? This all depended on whether or not he’d _truly_ been asleep for as long as Katara had said. Not that he imagined she would ever lie to him. And yet, the words that came out of his mouth next were none of the things he should’ve been focused on. “Katara, did Sokka come with us to the ice caves?”

She looked very confused for a moment, and then understanding filled her now-glassy blue eyes. “No, he didn’t come with us, but he _did_ pull you out of the water. He was hunting near the caves, and he saw you fall. He...” She paused with a guilty expression crossing her face. “He got there far quicker than I ever would have.” 

“I thought it was all a dream,” Zuko admitted, echoing his earlier thought. He wasn’t even particularly talking to Katara anymore, rather he was just vocalizing his thoughts as they came. “I think my uncle told me Sokka saved me, and it just didn’t make any sense because he ha—I thought he was really far away.” He swallowed hard. 

“Zuko, we almost lost you,” she choked out, a tear sliding down her cheek as she blinked. 

Zuko stared at her. 

He cocked his head. The sudden shift in mood that the conversation took hadn't really caught up with him yet. Why... why was Katara crying? Clearly Zuko was fine. She'd said it herself, his fever had broken that morning. So, why— 

“No. We _did_ lose you," she went on. "Sokka kept pushing on your chest to get your heart to beat again. I... I didn’t think he’d be able to. He tried for so long, and honestly, I thought you were too far gone.” She had to pause as a sob tore through her. Katara dropped her face into her hands as she cried. Collecting herself to the best of her ability, she continued, “I was just so _useless,_ Zuko. I got the water out of your lungs and clothes hoping you wouldn’t freeze to death, but it didn’t make a difference. You were already gone, and I couldn’t fix you.”

In that moment, Katara looked so young, and so... small. She was just a girl who'd lost too much, and had almost lost even more.

Zuko was truly moved that Katara would be _that_ devastated by his passing. That he made such a difference in someone else's life. Why did it make his chest feel so tight? He wasn't sure he'd earned that kind of love and care, or even if he even deserved it. Zuko shut his eyes and was surprised when tears slipped down his own cheeks. He brushed them away as quickly as he could. The last thing he needed was for his friend to feel even worse.

“Katara,” he whispered, knowing his voice would betray him if he tried to use all of it. “I’m okay. I’m right here, and I’m okay.” Zuko felt utterly useless. He longed to go to her, to hold her tightly until her tears stopped, but he couldn’t fucking move. 

“Yes, because _Sokka_ refused to give up. I wonder... I wonder, if he hadn’t been there—“ A strangled sound cut off her words, and she took another moment to gather her composure. Katara took a deep breath and pressed on, “I wonder, if he hadn’t been there, would I have brought back your body without you in it?” 

Zuko’s own breathing was shuddered, coming in ragged gasps. Had he really come _that_ close to dying? He vaguely recalled Iroh’s words. Something in particular stuck in his mind, Uncle told Zuko it was taking him a long time to come back to them. He exhaled slowly to steady himself and hooked a loose strand of hair behind his ear. “You didn’t have to, though. It’s all right, Katara. You did everything you could, and I’m _okay_ ,” he reminded her.

She tried to laugh, but it came out like a wheeze, a sound smothered by her own lungs. “You’re not supposed to be making _me_ feel better. I’m really sorry, Zuko. I’m just... really sorry.” 

Zuko held up a hand as if to pause her thought and shook his head. “It’s okay, I promise,” he replied, hoping he sounded as reassuring as he'd meant to. Feeling the intense need to change the subject, Zuko looked away, his misty gaze landing back on the empty chair beside him. “Katara, where’s Sokka?”

“He, ah, went to get us our lunch,” she explained with a sniffle, wiping away a stray tear. She looked oddly hesitant. “He doesn’t usually leave, but I had to insist. He needed to move around after sitting there for so long”

 _He doesn't usually leave._ Zuko was taken aback. The Sokka she’d painted for him was nothing like the one who’d constantly delivered cold glares and harsh words to Zuko since his return from the Earth Kingdom. It made no sense at all. Had Sokka truly gone to such great lengths to keep him alive? Had he actually sat there holding Zuko’s hand while he suffered the fever? _Impossible._ And yet, the evidence was damning. The whole thing left his mind reeling. 

“I see,” he said slowly. He, in fact, did not see. Vaguely, Zuko did remember waking up in a candlelit room with Sokka’s hand in his. He remembered that the contact between them being crucial to him. The nonsensical ramblings of a fever dream at best, and thinking about it too hard made him feel hollow—save for the knots in his stomach. Belatedly, he asked, “And Uncle Iroh?”

Katara’s eyes shut for just a moment too long and she gave a wan smile. Zuko immediately knew something was up, and he worried that he wouldn’t like it. Surely nothing had happened to his uncle. Right?

_Right?_

“Zuko, your uncle is attending the treaty negotiation meetings in your stead. Just until you get better, of course... That’s actually where he is right now,” she told him with a shaky voice, still recovering from the emotional moment they'd just shared. 

Was that all? He wanted to laugh, but he knew it would be in poor taste. If it had to come down to any of his advisors or his uncle taking his place, he’d choose his uncle every time without a doubt. Nevertheless, he felt guilt drop heavily onto his shoulders with the knowledge that Iroh was forced to pick up his slack. And while Zuko trusted Iroh implicitly, he needed to be in those meetings himself. Zuko hated failing, and he’d just learned that he’d spent five days failing. It was a great deal to take in. 

“I... I’ve caused a lot of trouble, haven’t I?” He wasn’t sure why he’d said it. Zuko shook himself and lifted his eyes to meet Katara’s watery ones; if he looked too long, he might start to cry again. It was all... a lot. “I need to go down there to relieve him,” he announced firmly. 

“Zuko,” began Katara, a warning clear in her voice. “You need to _rest._ ”

Zuko scoffed. “According to you, I just spent the last five days resting.” He sighed as he took in the stormy look on his friend’s face. “Katara, I have a duty to my people.”

“Yes, you _do._ So, it’s your duty to make sure you’re well enough to lead,” she said evenly. 

Zuko hated when Katara got all reasonable like this. How could he argue with that? He released a sullen huff. “I came all the way here for _this_ specifically, Katara,” came his feeble argument. 

Katara’s glare struck him like an ice dagger to the heart. Zuko sucked in a breath and focused his own gaze to the sheets balled in his fists before peering back up at her. Agni help him if he had to suffer the wrath of the waterbending master seated before him. 

It was a stalemate. Katara wasn't likely to budge, and neither was he. It was Zuko's stubbornness against Katara's, and he was unsure whose would win in the end. They stared fiercely at each other, both silently daring the other to speak. 

The tension building in the air around them was suffocating him. 

Relief washed over Zuko as he heard the door open despite the fact that the newcomer hadn’t bothered to knock. _Rude but fair,_ he thought. _I_ have _been asleep for a long time, I guess._ Zuko looked up and then froze. 

Sokka. 

At this point, Zuko wondered how he managed to be surprised each time he saw the Water Tribe warrior, and yet... 

“I hope you like an assortment, because I couldn’t decide,” Sokka said to his sister. He hadn’t looked Zuko’s way as his eyes stayed glued to the ridiculously large platter of food in his arms. “We need to have big festivals more often, Katara. Having the best foods from every nation available all at once is—“

Zuko’s eyes widened as Sokka’s gaze met his own. He could see knuckles tightening on the edges of the tray, and as if on cue, Katara hurried over to take the food from him. 

One of Sokka’s hands was heavily wrapped in bandages, which struck Zuko as odd due to the fact that Katara was an excellent healer. Not that it was any of his business. Sokka’s expression was entirely unreadable and the pit that formed in Zuko’s stomach the second the warrior had come into view expanded. 

“Hi,” said Zuko dumbly, his voice very small. 

Sokka blinked. His eyes flashed to his sister in a beseeching manner. 

“He woke up just after you left,” she supplied quietly, but not quietly enough to leave Zuko out. She set the tray on Zuko’s desk beside the teapot.

“Hi,” came Sokka’s uncertain reply. His hand cradled the injured one in a way that seemed unconsciously done. “How are you feeling?”

The formality and... concern? warring in Sokka’s voice made Zuko’s head ache. Everything was so infuriatingly muddy and confusing. _What the fuck is going on?_ he wanted to ask. Everyone was walking on eggshells around Zuko, and it was getting pretty annoying.

He didn’t mention any of that. Instead he shrugged and said, “Alive.” He’d meant it as a joke, though no humor had been injected into the word. Silence hung in the air oppressively, and it made Zuko feel itchy. “Your sister’s holding me prisoner, it would seem.” 

Sokka scoffed and his eye roll appeared to be involuntary. Looking supremely uncomfortable, Sokka shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “You look a lot better,” he offered awkwardly. 

“See?” Zuko said loudly, glowering at Katara and throwing his hands into the air in exasperation. His outburst had made his throat burn. A quick scan of the room supplied him with the knowledge that his regular water jug was no longer at his bedside. Or anywhere in the room, for that matter. _Well, that’s less than ideal,_ he thought glumly. With a scratchy voice, he argued, "I look better, and I _am_ better. I'm perfectly able to go back to work." 

Raising an eyebrow, Sokka handed him the water skin from his hip. 

Zuko nodded in thanks before drinking greedily. He drained the bag and aimed a sheepish glance toward Sokka. “I, uh, I try to be sure I have water by my bedside these days, but I guess I haven’t been in here for a while, huh?” Zuko told him with a bland smile, giving the water skin back to Sokka. “Sorry.” 

Zuko didn’t miss that Katara had ignored his assertion. 

Sokka shrugged and gestured to the tray on his desk where Katara was sitting, wrinkling her nose at some of the options her brother had provided for them. “I’m sure you’re hungry, no one could really get you to eat while you were down for the count. There’s plenty for all of us,” he proposed, rubbing at the back of his neck restlessly. 

_I haven't eaten for five days?_ It was almost funny. He could imagine Uncle Iroh battling to force food down his throat while Zuko violently pawed him away. Probably not unlike the sickness that had befallen Zuko in Ba Sing Se when he'd let the Avatar's sky bison go free, Iroh had tried to take care of Zuko who'd fought him the entire time. 

Zuko _was_ hungry, but he wasn’t sure if he could manage to get any food down. Nausea had been building steadily within him without his notice and the idea of eating right then made his stomach churn. Even worse would be watching Sokka because the Water Tribe boy ate like an animal. Behaviors like those that made it nearly impossible to believe he and Katara were related at all. Had the resemblance between the two of them not been so strong, Zuko would've called it a lie for sure.

He just nodded numbly, his eyes staring unseeingly at the sheets pooled in his lap. 

No longer ignoring him, Katara carefully picked items and set them onto a small plate for Zuko. All soft morsels, he noted. Perhaps he’d mentioned his sore throat in his sleep? Or maybe he truly looked _that_ terrible. He tucked another loosened lock of hair behind his ear—briefly wondering who’d tied it up for him in the first place—and set to picking at his food. 

Sokka sat down in the chair across the room. The one that _hadn't_ been moved to his bedside.

Despite having drained Sokka’s water supply, Zuko was far more thirsty than he was hungry. If that were possible. He popped a slice of moon peach into his mouth, hoping its juice would do something to quench that dry ache. He chewed, swallowed, and winced. _Ouch._

“Do you want some tea? It’s still hot,” offered Katara, looking worried.

Zuko shook his head. Nothing could be worse than the idea of hot tea scorching his sensitive throat. He regarded her with an even expression. “I should be permitted to attend the meeting, even if I’m not allowed to talk, I should at least be there,” he insisted hoarsely. 

_This is a special kind of hell._ Zuko was a lot of things, and while dramatic was high on the list, he wasn't wrong. After swallowing sea water, enduring an intense and long fever, days of disuse, and having just cried had created a treacherous concoction of pain that had seemed to set his throat permanently ablaze. 

Katara didn’t even attempt to suppress her groan. “No,” she said flatly. “Not today. _Maybe_ tomorrow, but I’m making no promises. You’re not leaving this room until you have a healer’s clearance.”

 _Fantastic._ Zuko rolled his eyes as Sokka chortled. He really _was_ being held hostage. “Fine," he began sourly. “But if the fire Nation goes up in flames, it’s on you.”

“Considering the fact that it’s the home of people who shoot literal fire out of their bodies, I doubt Katara could be blamed for such a thing,” Sokka reasoned, his eyes bright in a way they always were when he knew he’d said something particularly funny. 

Katara snorted. 

Sokka tossed a crab puff into his mouth and continued to smile while he chewed. 

“I’m glad you’re both having fun at my expense,” Zuko grumbled. He attempted to eat another slice of moon peach with similar results. Setting his plate down on the bed in defeat, Zuko sighed deeply which resulted in a series of dry coughs. Miserably, his eyes found those of his best friend. 

As if understanding his silent plea, she nodded, appearing more concerned than she ought to be. Katara was looking at Zuko like he was fragile and it made him uneasy. She turned her attention to Sokka and announced, “I’m going to get a jug of water.”

 _Oh,_ he thought. Zuko imagined the Water Tribe girl simply would've offered him her own supply of water, though there was the chance that it wasn't very fresh. Sometimes she'd forget to change out the water she used to bend for weeks at a time, which was pretty ridiculous considering the South Pole was essentially _all_ water. He supposed that, like Sokka's hand, _also_ wasn't any of his business. 

Sokka hummed in understanding. His mouth was still full. 

“Thank you, Katara,” he breathed, bowing his head in gratitude. Zuko felt terrible that she couldn't enjoy her food yet because of him and silently vowed to make it up to her later. 

Sokka watched her go, suddenly looking frantic. He appeared instantly regretful that he hadn't offered to go in her place, as if being alone with Zuko was the worst thing in the world. The moment the door shut behind her, the warrior took to stuffing his mouth with as much food as he could. 

Zuko raised his eyebrow. “Sokka?” He was whispering, as to not injure his throat further. 

“No.” Eyes narrowing, the Water Tribe boy looked up at him. He speared another dumpling and shoved the whole thing into his mouth. 

“Sokka,” he tried again with a huff. His eyes slid, involuntarily, to the chair that had been pulled up to his bedside. Zuko knew he didn't have much time alone with him before Katara returned, and he had to ask, “What happened when I fell through the ice?”

“You died, and we brought you back.” 

Zuko sighed impatiently. “I know that. I mean, why did you save my life?” He peered up at Sokka—who’d abruptly stopped eating—through his eyelashes. 

“Zuko, you’re Katara’s best friend,” he pointed out condescendingly. “How would it have looked if I just let you sink to the bottom of the ocean?”

That made him flinch. “You could’ve pretended you never saw me. It’s not like you were exactly close to me when I fell,” he hissed, still trying to keep his voice low and even. 

Sokka’s rolled his eyes and jabbed an impaled dumpling in Zuko’s direction. “Are you an idiot on purpose, or does it come naturally to you?” His tone was scathing, and it made Zuko’s jaw tighten. “I wasn’t worried that Katara would blame me for not saving you. Could you imagine how entirely crushed she’d be if you died? It’s not like she’d just get over it within a week, stop trying to find a hidden meaning where there isn’t one.”

Something in Zuko's chest clenched. _He saved me for Katara..._

Despite himself, Zuko was still skeptical. There were too many holes in his memory to properly weave everything together, but somehow he knew that wasn’t all there was to it. Sokka had _wanted_ him to be alive. He had, hadn’t he? He could vaguely recall a conversation with Iroh that _definitely_ —maybe wasn't a dream, where he’d told him Sokka cared about him. Or something like that. 

Zuko’s head hurt. It felt like he and Sokka have had this discussion a hundred times now. 

“I don’t believe you,” he whispered, almost to himself rather than Sokka. 

Sokka let out a groan akin to a yell and in an instant, the doors were thrown open. Zuko’s guards glared at Sokka, trying to decide whether or not they should spring into action. Zuko waved them away. They paused, watching their Fire Lord with uncertainty before bowing and taking their leave. 

It would’ve been comical, had Zuko not felt so vulnerable. 

“What’s with the muscle?” mumbled Sokka, his eyes never leaving the doors. 

“I was able to persuade them to back off some before, but with the festival and more guests—they just can’t take any chances,” he explained unhappily. Zuko had grown so used to a lack of babysitter these last couple weeks that he’d actually forgotten about the arrangement up until now. Sure, guards had still posted at his doors while he slept, but otherwise, the trip had been blissfully free of them. 

Sokka snickered. “They can’t trust their own leader—a powerful firebender and expert swordsman—to protect himself?” He took a bite of a cabbage cookie and chewed thoughtfully before wrinkling his nose in disgust.

Zuko stared at him. 

Heat spread dangerously through Zuko’s chest and his eyes closed. He released a long breath to calm himself. Getting angry at a snide comment should have been beneath him. He also refused to let Sokka know he was getting to him. “Well, you know, after the first dozen or so assassination attempts, you can never be too careful,” he spat. 

Sokka blanched, lowering his eyes as he considered this. “Oh.”

 _What, Sokka? No snarky comment to follow that?_

How did Sokka not know about this? Was it possible that Suki hadn’t filled him in on everything? She was briefed by the Kyoshi warriors each time an attempt was made, but perhaps she took her work so seriously as to not even tell her own boyfriend. Interesting. 

Zuko felt very tired. Tired of being sick. Tired of not getting any answers. And just... tired. 

“Yeah, _oh_ ,” he said bitterly. _Eloquent,_ he thought, resisting the urge to roll his eyes at himself. Zuko remained silent for a long time, and so did Sokka. Neither of them moved, Sokka had even paused his eating again. They just sat there in a heavy, unpleasant silence. Finally, Zuko _had_ to say something lest he implode. “Why... Why did you hold my hand?”

He cringed, instantly wishing he could take it back. He wanted to stuff all the words in his mouth and swallow them whole. 

“We’re supposed to be friends, remember?” Sokka reminded him. _For Katara’s benefit._ He didn’t say it. He didn’t need to. 

“Yes,” Zuko began icily. “We _are_.” The words were pointed and full of implication, because they _are_ supposed to be friends and for some unfounded reason, Sokka simply refused to just fucking explain why they couldn’t be. It was getting old really quickly. 

Sokka stared at him, but he said nothing. 

“Were we _ever_ friends? Because I thought... I thought we were.” Zuko said meekly. 

The Water Tribe warrior rubbed at the back of his neck as he seemed to do when he was frustrated and his eyes narrowed. “Would an answer even satisfy you? Like, what are you hoping for here?”

The question was likely rhetorical, but Zuko found himself thinking deeply. It wasn’t something he’d ever considered. What _had_ he been hoping for? Neither answer would make him happy. But if they _had_ been friends at one point, perhaps he could still fix it somehow. _Pathetic._ Still, Zuko decided he needed to know. “Just answer the question,” he said tiredly. 

“I... I don’t know,” Sokka admitted. His eyes were guarded and as if he realized this, he cast his gaze sidelong, effectively shutting Zuko out. “You helped my save my dad and—I, yeah, I think we were friends.”

Hope blossomed inside of Zuko’s chest before he could stamp it down. Zuko watched Sokka drain a cup of tea in one go. He cocked his head and frowned. “So, what happened?” Zuko prodded. 

Sokka shrugged. He opened his mouth to speak and immediately shut it again. Instead of answering, he picked up a pastry and started nibbling at it.

Zuko frowned. 

He hated to be toyed with, so why had he been so willing to let Sokka do this? Why was Zuko so fucking desperate for the Water Tribe boy to be his friend? He really _was_ pathetic. He was a miserable and pitiful fool without a single thought in his head. 

Perhaps it was the potential. At the Boiling Rock, Zuko could see it in Sokka right away. Someone who could understand him without the need for words. A fighting partner whose style complemented his own. They each had what the other lacked, and together they could be unbeatable in battle. It _was_ the potential. The potential to gain something that Zuko never had up until that point. A best friend. A right hand. Now... now they weren’t even friends at all, and it broke Zuko’s fucking heart.

The door opened once again, Zuko prepared himself to wave away the guards once more, but it was Katara who stepped through. All of the air in his lungs was expelled in a single moment. He was both relieved and disappointed. 

Zuko tried to eat as much as he could and he guzzled down ridiculous amounts of water. Between bursts of idle chatter with Katara, he’d decided to set his focus on trying to sneak into the meetings he should already be a part of.

Any feelings he might or might not have about Sokka would have to wait. Actually, they needed to be locked away, maybe forever. It was a realization that hit him hard and fast. Too long had he focused on a sinking ship, a friendship with an expiration date. And frankly, he was sick of talking in circles with the Water Tribe boy. The time for dwelling on an alliance—or lack thereof—between them was long passed, and Zuko had to focus on the important matters. 

His nation, the whole world, needed him to have a clear head and straightened priorities. No more distractions. Zuko was here in the name of duty, not friendship. The part he was playing in acquiring more peace between nations was crucial, and he couldn't allow himself to be weak anymore. 

_My nation first. Always my nation first._

* * *

Zuko must have fallen asleep at some point, because it was suddenly dark outside. A quick sweep of the room told him that he was finally alone, and he instantly took the opportunity to get out of bed—Katara wasn’t there to stop him. His body protested painfully from disuse and Zuko dizzily made his way to the window. Taking in the glow of the festival below, he envied his friends. 

His _friends_. 

Zuko wondered, again, if Aang had arrived on time. How could he have neglected to ask Katara about it? He could remember meaning to, but he’d been too absorbed in himself to ask about anything else. Unfortunately, Zuko had to doubt that the Avatar was in the South Pole, he knew Aang would’ve been in his room the second Zuko awoke, vibrating with his endless supply of energy. He felt sorry for Katara. She’d been so hopeful that he’d be here. What could have _possibly_ held him up? 

He heaved a sigh, and with a flick of his fingers he lit the candles at his bedside from his spot by the window. He’d rather be down _there_ in the cold, eating fire flakes. Possibly sitting with Katara, listening to one of Chief Hakoda's many fantastical stories around a warm fire. Or mingling and even talking to other officials about work; anything to be out of a damned bed. Zuko needed to be outside. 

From behind him, Zuko heard the door open and he turned sheepishly at having been caught out of bed. The flames flickered wildly with his surprise, illuminating his visitor’s face for the briefest of moments. He exhaled in relief. It was just one of his advisors, Liu. She held a tray in her hands, and she offered a low bow while miraculously not spilling any of the contents. 

“Good evening, Fire Lord Zuko,” she greeted him, all charming fake smiles and enthusiasm. “It’s so good to see you moving around.”

“Zuko,” he corrected her without thinking. Zuko attempted a smile even though knew it wouldn’t reach his eyes. She probably didn’t notice, his advisors never did. “It feels nice to stand, just please don’t tell Katara. She’d have my head for this.”

Liu looked concerned, but dipped her head in a single nod. Zuko knew he wasn’t that funny, but come _on_ , he hated how stiff the council could be. Especially the few, like Liu, who weren’t much older than himself. They made Zuko look _relaxed_ by comparison which was, admittedly, an impressive accomplishment. 

Liu was the daughter of some general, or... someone. He couldn’t quite remember at that moment. Zuko could blame being sick for his forgetfulness, couldn’t he? She was kind and brave, unlike the majority of the elder council members, he’d seen it in many of the meetings they attended together. It was that fire that had earned her a spot at his side for these negotiations, so really it didn’t matter that she failed to catch his bad jokes. 

Despite their rigidity, Zuko still preferred the younger people on his council, as they were always at least a _little_ more open to change than the elder members. Some of which still favored their former leader, and Zuko could do nothing about it for the time being. As long as they made no attempts on his life and never overtly broke any laws, his hands were tied. Politics were, unquestionably, a bitch.

“I brought you something to eat,” she said curtly, holding her tray out as proof.

With the light of the candles casting a warm, soft glow onto her normally sharp features, Zuko thought she might be a beautiful girl. It wasn’t something he’d ever noticed before. He was willing to bet the elders would think her a suitable match for him, someone who could proudly share his throne with her strength and grace. Not that Zuko ever had time to consider such frivolity. Zuko barely had time to look at people, let alone decide if they were attractive or not. And truthfully, he liked it that way.

“Thank you, Liu. I hope to see you at the meetings in the morning, should I be cleared to be in attendance,” he said with a polite nod.

She placed the meal on his bedside table and bowed once again before taking her leave. “Good night, Fire Lord Zuko.”

It struck Zuko as odd that she would bring his food, and he eyed the tray suspiciously. _Ah. Dinner and paperwork._ That made more sense. 

For once, the idea of looking over paperwork was actually _appealing._ Paperwork tended to be straightforward. There was no guess work, no complicated emotions, just words on a page that either needed editing or his seal of approval. Easy. 

Before leaving his room earlier, Katara had expressed that Zuko should wait a few more days to recover—but he really was starting to feel a _lot_ better. He found that his food went down easier this time, even if he couldn’t finish all of it. And despite Katara’s skepticism, Zuko was positive he’d be well enough to work the following day.

The papers, to Zuko’s pleasure, were actually a detailed outline of the meetings he’d been missing. He picked at the food while he read, grateful that Liu took _very_ meticulous notes. This was a better briefing than he could’ve ever hoped for, and with all of the transcribed dialogue—seriously, she’d _actually_ included all of the dialogue with notes about each ambassador attending the meetings—he almost felt like he’d been there the entire time. Perhaps it was time Liu got a raise. 

After a while of reading and adding in his own ideas where he felt they needed to be, he sighed and pulled his hair down from its holdings. Zuko sealed the papers back up and pushed himself away from his desk. 

His eyes fell to the chair pulled up to his bedside yet again and Zuko frowned. Yeah. Zuko decided he was thoroughly sick of Sokka’s shit. _I don’t understand you, Sokka. And maybe I never will._ Maybe he needed to lie down again. Nothing made sense, and all of his thoughts were beginning to blend together. Zuko didn’t want to think any longer. 

Not today, at least. 

* * *

Each time he slept, it felt restless. Zuko was still tired even after multiple days filled only with sleep and nothing much more. _Is it the nightmare? I don’t feel like I’ve had it in a while,_ he realized, feeling almost nervous. He was used to the nightmares and he knew how to cope with them. Well, mostly. But waiting for them to come back? That was terrifying. It was a unique kind of agony. 

Still, he rose from the bed and swiftly changed into some of his finer robes. After combing out the sleep-formed tangles, he separated half his hair into a simple knot at the top of his head. Zuko located his hair piece, shining with brilliant shades of copper and gold in the morning light, the colors dancing as if the thing were truly a live fire. As it slid into his bun, it felt heavy. Foreign.

While he might not have felt like much of a Fire Lord lately, at least he _looked_ the part.

No matter what, he needed to be in those meetings today. These negotiations were a long time coming, and could never be finalized without Zuko’s approval. At least, when it came to the trades between the Fire Nation and the Southern Water Tribe—which was the whole point of this entire endeavor. Therefore, he _had_ to be present. His uncle could only do so much in his place. 

Besides, Zuko had decided to push all thoughts of Sokka from his head and simply throw himself back into his work. He simply needed to be _allowed_ to do so. Zuko vaguely recalled a proverb Iroh had told him years ago, something about idle hands and dark spirits. He couldn’t quite remember the wording. Soon enough, he would be going back home, and he’d never have to think about all of this again. 

Opening his door, he leaned in close to one of his favorite guards. “Ezosu, could you do me a favor?” whispered Zuko. 

Zuko found himself fiercely missing the Kyoshi warriors. Those who were on his personal guard had stayed in the Fire Nation during this outing at his own request. He needed them to watch over the councilmen that remained in the homeland in the case of any coup or assassination attempts that might have taken place in his absence. The warriors were immediately an indispensable asset from the first day of their employment. Even the newer recruits Suki had sent to him were trained impeccably, and Zuko trusted them above even his own soldiers.

He reckoned that he probably should've brought at least a couple with him, but his decision had been made amidst the rush of preparations to leave for the Southern Water Tribe. Perhaps it wasn't his most well-planned move, though there haven't been any issues or attempts on his life since his arrival... Aside from his dip into the ocean, but he'd decided not to consider the ice a true assailant. 

“Of course, Fire Lord Zuko, anything,” he promised. Ezosu was no Kyoshi warrior, but he had the heart and dedication of one.

Zuko didn’t bother correcting him, he didn’t have the time. “Can you find a healer? Preferably one of those who attended to me when I was... indisposed.” 

Ezosu nodded with great enthusiasm and began to head off. 

“Wait!" he called a little too loudly. Zuko winced and was grateful that the hallway was empty save for the guards. "I apologize—I, uh, can you ask my uncle to come to my room before that?” 

“Of course,” he said with a bow and a smile. The man gave Zuko a thumbs up before setting off to complete his new tasks. 

Zuko smiled back at him and said, “Thank you, Ezosu.”

Zuko continued to smile as he shut the door to his room. Immediately, he moved the chair from his bedside back into its rightful place and decidedly did _not_ think of Sokka. Because why would he? Regardless of who sat in it, the placement of a chair didn’t make him feel a particular way about anything. Nothing at _all._

Soon, his uncle would be in—probably with tea—and they could discuss all he’d missed. Granted Liu's notes had been fantastic, he still wanted Iroh's take on everything. Zuko missed having his guidance and wisdom at his disposal. Sure, he was infinitely glad Iroh was able to live his dream each and every day in his tea shop, but that happiness for him didn't make Zuko miss his uncle any less. 

Perhaps, while he waited, he could fit in a few minutes of meditation to try to clear some of the turbulence from within him. Then, whether Katara liked it or not, Zuko was going to get clearance from a healer to finally go back to work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Zuko said, "no thoughts, head empty"
> 
> And, like Zuko, I’m sick of Sokka’s shit.
> 
> Also, I have to say that men are such babies when they're sick.
> 
> Let me hear your thoughts, I love to know how I can improve. :) & big things await us next chapter.
> 
> Chapter title from I Would Hate You If I Could - Turnover


	8. I know that you don't really care

With his new medical clearance, Zuko made his way down to the meetings with Iroh in tow. Katara wouldn't like it, but there also wasn't really anything she could do about it. Plus, Zuko knew his best friend would get over this eventually, time healed all wounds or something like that. Right? He needed to take his victories wherever he could get them, and this was _certainly_ a victory.

It’d taken less time than anticipated for his healer to make it to him—which reminded him that Esozu might also be due for a raise—and ultimately deem him clear for his work.

Finally. 

His healer, a strangely familiar old woman, had determined that while many of his memories during the recovery from falling into the ice were hazy and fragmented, all of his memories before and after appeared entirely in tact. Zuko’s fever had been no joking matter, and she said he was lucky to even be alive. The loss of a few memories was a small price to pay for the miracle of his recovery. She’d also told him that some of those memories might return to him eventually. It was a minor frustration at worst. Zuko was, more or less, healthy now and fully capable of doing his job. 

His throat was still irritated, but that was surely to be expected. Right?

Armed with all of his notes and plans, he approached the meeting hall when—

“Zuko?”

The voice was loud and just barely familiar. 

Zuko turned with a puzzled expression unfolding across his face. He recognized the crisp blue lines before even the face of the person beneath them. The boy, or rather teenager, bore the markings of a civilization now lost to this world. _Aang._ He’d made it, after all. 

“Zuko!” he exclaimed. The airbender sprang forward to trap Zuko into the tightest hug he’d probably ever been given. Aang was taller each time Zuko saw him, and he’d been changing so much he was nearly unrecognizable. Nearly. He still harbored an unlimited store of energy, and he was still that big-hearted kid Zuko had met four years ago. He was just... bigger. “I’ve missed you so much. I’m so glad you’re okay.”

Oh. He knew. Zuko released an involuntary sigh into Aang’s shoulder. “I guess I’m just lucky,” he mumbled. 

Zuko almost laughed. He never imagined he’d say that in his entire life. He wasn’t even sure he believed it. 

Lucky?

No.

Not lucky. 

Something else. 

From the corner of his eye, Zuko saw Iroh slip into the meeting room to wait for him. He felt guilty. During this whole trip, Iroh had been giving Zuko ample space to be with his friends—and Sokka, he guessed—even though he’d personally invited his uncle, and had actually all but begged him to come along. A mental note was made to make it up to Uncle sooner rather than later. 

Aang pulled back with a toothy grin. “I wasn’t worried, you’re strong. Katara worries too much sometimes and I kinda suspect she sent that letter to try to get me here faster,” he said brightly. 

Had Katara undersold his condition? Why would she do that? It didn’t matter, he was relieved. He didn’t need more people fussing over him—or worse, for the wrong people to find a weakness in him—especially since he was _fine._

“Yeah, I’m fine. You guys aren’t getting rid of me that easily,” he said more airily than he felt. Zuko balled his fists uncomfortably at his sides. His brain jumpstarted after a moment and he asked, “Wait, did you _just_ get here, Aang?”

“Yeah, a couple hours ago. Katara wasn’t really happy about that.” The Avatar offered a guilty smile and rubbed at the back of his bald head.

Zuko winced sympathetically. Katara’s temper rivaled that of a master firebender, and Zuko never wanted to be on the receiving end of her wrath _ever_ again. “What kept you?” he wondered aloud. 

“The short version? Avatar things,” he said almost dismissively. 

Zuko raised his eyebrow. 

Aang sighed, but then easily regained his smiled. “The long version is that I started working with the Air Acolytes to restore the air temples. Time sort of got away from me, I guess.” 

Zuko could tell that Aang felt badly about keeping Katara—and everyone else—waiting, though he could also hear the pride in the Air Nomad’s voice. The monk’s culture meant the world to him, and his determination to not see it lost forever was truly awe-inspiring. Before he could think to hold a decidedly even expression, Zuko smiled. His soft spot for Aang knew no bounds, which was rather not in Fire Lord fashion, he knew—but he didn’t really care.

“Oh...well, I’m sure Katara can’t be too mad about _that_.”

Aang huffed and rolled his eyes. “Yeah, you’d think,” he mumbled sourly, though Zuko thought he detected a hint of fondness in Aang’s voice. A slow grin split his lips. “It’s okay, I’ll make it up to her. I brought her a pretty good gift.” 

“Oh yeah? What’s that?” 

“You’ll see.”

* * *

As expected, the meetings weren’t particularly exciting, these things never really were. Still, Zuko was infinitely glad to be there. He took detailed notes—perhaps not quite as detailed as Liu’s because he doubted that was even possible—and saved his voice for the moments he needed it most. 

His interjections were brief. Clipped. After all, he was technically a newcomer to these meetings. Zuko needed to gather any and all information before he could speak confidently on the subjects at hand. 

Zuko watched everyone closely, sizing up those that would likely be his biggest opponents in any arguments he’d try to make. At one point, Liu actually smiled at him from her spot two seats over. It caught Zuko completely off guard, gave what he hoped would translate to a smile in return. Did his advisors _feel bad_ for him? The mere thought made Zuko want to vomit. 

While Zuko quietly collected his information, another newcomer spoke forcefully and with a wisdom that far surpassed his years. 

Aang. 

Zuko was shocked by how much the Avatar had matured since even the end of the war. While the boy was four years his junior, Zuko looked up to Aang. Especially now. He was so much more level-headed and sure of himself than Zuko had been at that age. 

Diplomacy was, admittedly, still not Zuko’s forte. At least, not in the way that it was Aang’s. The boy was built for it, it came naturally. Zuko had to work tirelessly to do what the Avatar did effortlessly. It was impressive. And Zuko would do anything he could to _make_ it his forte as well, so he made it a point to take extra careful notes when the Air Nomad spoke.

He watched with equal parts envy and wonder as his friend delivered his opinions with such conviction and authority. When it came to delivering speeches to the nations, Zuko always worried about stepping on toes as the leader of a once-oppressive nation, one that had attempted—and in one case, succeeded—to wipe out the others in order to reign supreme. Most of Zuko’s speeches to nations that weren’t his own had to be prefaced with an apology on his nation’s behalf. It was exhausting having to be the first in taking steps to make up for a hundred years of tyranny and deplorable behavior. 

Zuko only wanted to do the right thing always, and he hoped he wasn’t failing at every step. Sometimes he wasn’t sure, there wasn't exactly a rule book on this kind of thing, so maybe he never would be. All he could do was try. All he could do was hope. 

Iroh’s hand on his forearm snapped Zuko out of his reverie. It appeared he’d missed an Earth Kingdom representative’s question that’d been directed at him. 

Zuko froze. Everyone was watching him. Some with curiosity, others with disdain, the rest with confusion. Even Aang, who was still standing, looked down at him in mild bewilderment. 

Aside from Aang and Iroh, Zuko had to wonder how many of them knew about his recent ailment. 

Hopefully none. 

But to contradict his earlier statement, Zuko wasn’t particularly known for being lucky. 

With a sheepish smile, he said, “I’m sorry, could you please repeat that?”

* * *

“You were really something in there, Avatar,” Zuko said, nudging the airbender in the side playfully. Seriously, when had Aang gotten so tall?

Aang was all smiles with no trace of the serious Avatar-on-duty that he’d seen at the meeting. _This_ was the Aang Zuko knew well. 

“You weren’t so bad yourself,” he told Zuko. 

He scoffed. “I hardly said a word today.”

Aang’s grin widened, if that were even possible. “Only a fool speaks before he is fully prepared,” he replied with a sage nod. 

“You sound like Uncle Iroh,” grumbled Zuko, with a good-natured eye roll. 

“Good. I like your uncle,” he said, beaming. Aang slung an arm around Zuko’s shoulders easily and steered them into a direction Zuko wasn’t familiar with.

a couple of guards followed them, just far enough back to be out of earshot, but close enough to spring into action if need be. Which they wouldn’t, given that he and Aang were more than capable of handling anything that came their way, even while Zuko was weaker than usual.

Zuko was glad his uncle was so well-liked, because in his opinion, the man deserved it. Once, he was an infamous general in the Fire Nation army, and next in line to be Fire Lord. He was a fearsome thing to behold, Zuko was sure. Though as he claimed Zuko’s always was, Iroh’s heart was undoubtedly always good. Everyone was a victim of circumstance in the war. It just depended on whether or not one could push past all they were predisposed to in order to see the greater good. It was a path Zuko struggled with for far too long, and he often wondered if the journey was quite as hard for his uncle. 

He suspected Iroh’s moral compass was at least a little stronger than Zuko’s own. 

“Where are we going?” he asked uncertainly. “I don’t have a coat with me right now. You know, Breath of Fire doesn’t make me impervious to cold...”

Aang laughed, and Zuko vaguely wondered if he’d ever sounded half as carefree as the Air Nomad was at any given moment. “Relax, we’re staying indoors. I told you I brought Katara a present, didn’t I?”

Zuko grimaced. “Ew.”

His entire face and the tips of his ears turned an impressive shade of red. “It’s nothing like that, Zuko!” Aang’s voice was full of an incredulity that made Zuko laugh.

 _Good,_ he thought. That wasn’t something he _ever_ wanted to imagine.

“Well, to be fair, you never specified.”

It was Aang’s turn to roll his eyes. “The present’s for you, too.” 

Zuko stopped walking and he raised his eyebrow. He needed Aang to elaborate on that one. “Oh?” 

“Just come on,” he urged. He continued to usher Zuko forward and he ruffled Zuko’s hair in a way only Aang would be allowed to do. “You know, you look _really_ tired.” 

Zuko made a tiny sound of displeasure, but said nothing. He just allowed Aang to lead him like a lamb to slaughter. 

Eventually they reached a door that Zuko had never been in front of. His room was in the same building as the meetings, but this was the main floor. Zuko’s was the top floor. 

“Where are we?” he asked softly. 

Aang jerked his head toward the door, a silent suggestion for Zuko to open it. 

Zuko sighed, knocked once out of politeness, and pushed it open. Nothing could’ve prepared him for the scene inside, or the unbidden joy that immediately filled him to the brim. 

“Hey, Sparky, long time no see.”

Toph wore a smug grin. She was sprawled across a large chair, her booted feet dangling in the air. How did she even know it was him who walked through the door? There was no way she could _see_ at all here. 

Zuko didn’t say it. She must have been uncomfortable enough as is. “Toph, what are you doing here?” he asked in delight. 

Katara and Sokka were in the room as well, though Zuko didn’t pay them any mind. They could wait. 

Toph shot up onto her feet, landing with less grace than Zuko had likely ever seen from the earthbender. 

“After this long, you aren’t going to give me a hug?” she challenged, tapping a foot with mock impatience.

Zuko laughed and scooped her up easily into his arms, crushing her against him. “You’re a sight for sore eyes,” he admitted into her hair. 

“I wish I could say the same,” she laughed. 

Zuko still wasn’t sure if it was appropriate to laugh at her blind jokes, but he did it before he could stop himself. 

“To answer your question,” she began. Zuko set her down as gently as possible. “I hitched a ride with Twinkletoes over there. I wasn’t technically invited, but the good thing about being a Beifong is that people tend not to ask too many questions when you crash a party.”

Aang had joined Katara where she was perched on the edge of the bed. She somehow looked both angry and happy all at once, both emotions caused by Aang, no doubt. He nodded enthusiastically. “I was already late, so I figured I had time for a pit stop,” Aang added. 

Katara glared at him. 

_Maybe she’ll be so distracted by Aang, she’ll forget to be mad at me for weaseling my way out of my room,_ thought Zuko hopefully. 

Zuko knew what a big deal it was that Toph was here. He recalled a conversation with Sokka when he was reminded of how much this festival meant to Katara. To have so many loved ones in one place at the same time meant the world to her, and to add yet another person to the mix truly was an amazing gift to her. Aang had done well, even if Katara couldn’t see it that way in the moment. 

It was also big for Toph who was entirely blind in this land of ice and intense cold. She couldn’t see with her feet and would be very reliant on her friends. To say this wasn’t something Toph would handle well would be an understatement. The girl valued her independence, which was something Zuko had always really admired in her. 

Katara’s eyes continued to burn holes into the side of Aang’s face as he pretended not to notice. And Zuko didn’t bother looking at Sokka. He was at a loss for something to say to break the clear tension in the room. 

“Can you all stop being so weird and at least pretend you’re happy we’re all together?” Toph snapped. Her tiny frame dropped heavily into the chair she’d previously claimed as her own. 

Zuko breathed a sigh of relief, infinitely glad he wasn’t the one to have to disrupt the uncomfortable silence. 

It was Sokka, who hadn’t said a word since Zuko and Aang had arrived, who spoke next. “Toph’s right. We should be out having fun, there _is_ a festival going on.” 

Katara’s sharp gaze fell onto her brother. “Zuko can’t go out there in the cold,” she snapped. 

_Or not._

Zuko narrowed his eyes. “I have medical clearance,” he said tiredly. 

“Yeah, he has medical clearance,” Sokka echoed, offering a wolfish grin. He cradled his still-bandaged hand in his strong one, this tiny act of self-soothing seemed unconsciously done.

Zuko stared at him, heart stuttering in his chest. _Oh, right,_ he thought, _We’re still pretending to be buddies._

Toph cocked her head. 

Katara looked positively feral, and she leaned forward, stabbing her finger in Sokka’s direction. “He was cleared to _work,_ not to gallivant around the South Pole in the cold.”

Zuko’s eye widened, and Aang looked at him with a mirrored expression. It was as if they were silently asking each other what they should do about this because Katara was _not_ in the mood to back down. 

Before either of them had the chance to say anything, Sokka said, “I’ll keep an eye on him.”

Bold.

Zuko stared at him. 

Narrowing her eyes, she looked from Sokka to Zuko and back to Sokka. Zuko could see the suspicion plain on her face, she thought that the two of them were conspiring against her. “You’ll keep an eye on him?” Katara asked dubiously. 

_Stop talking about me like I'm not here,_ he wanted to say, but his mouth wouldn't open.

Looking incredibly bored, Toph dug a finger into her ear and rolled her unseeing eyes. 

Aang looked puzzled, but wisely chose not to add to the conversation. 

“Yup. If he starts looking even a little messed up, I’ll bring him right back inside,” Sokka promised with a nod. He crossed his arms and wore an annoyingly self-satisfied smirk. 

Zuko’s stomach clenched. _What the fuck is he playing at here?_ He felt entirely lost, so much so, he still couldn’t find it within himself to speak. His jaw clenched and his fists balled tightly at his thighs. 

Still seemingly on the verge of melting down, Katara looked entirely unconvinced.

Toph sat up in her seat, suddenly looking skeptical she glared at Sokka and said, “I’ll stay with him, too.”

* * *

Sokka stared at Zuko with his head cocked—it reminded him vaguely of a baby polar bear dog. It was the coat, he knew that. It actually belonged to Sokka. 

_”Your coat wasn’t salvageable, I don’t think it was meant for...a swim. You can use one of Sokka’s spares, he won’t miss it.”_ Was what Katara had said. 

Zuko had been hesitant then, and that feeling was multiplied tenfold as he stood before his watchdog of the evening. He’d apologized, offered to give it back, none of it was enough to coax Sokka into speaking.

The Water Tribe boy turned and began walking without waiting to even see if he’d be followed. A bit presumptuous, although the three of them _had_ already promised Katara they’d stay together until they all met back up.

Sighing, Zuko slipped a bare hand into Toph’s gloved one. She was there to watch him and the was there to help her see. They each held a purpose for the other, while Sokka, on the other hand, had no gain in this. It’s what puzzled Zuko most. Sure they were still pretending to be friends, but that didn’t really require either of them to go above and beyond for the other. 

Zuko’s head hurt. 

Toph squeezed his fingers and offered an unfamiliar look. 

“What?” he hissed softly, knowing she could hear him while Sokka couldn’t. 

“You _know_ what,” came her sharp reply. Her unseeing eyes flicked pointedly to where Sokka walked just ahead of them. 

How had she noticed? It wasn’t as if she could see with her feet here. “Oh, that?” Zuko forced a pitiful chuckle. “That’s not anything.”

Toph laughed hard enough to make Sokka look back at them. The moment he turned away—seriously, how was she able to tell?—she said, “Zuko, I’m blind, not an idiot.” 

“I...I don’t want to talk about it,” he whispered. Zuko squeezed her hand in something resembling an apology. 

_Drop it, drop it, drop it..._

“Yes you do.” 

She was right. Obviously. But Zuko was trying to lay this situation to rest and he wanted to keep it that way. He didn’t respond. 

“I could talk to him about it,” she suggested with the ghost of a smile tracing her lips. 

“Absolutely not,” he growled. 

"You know I'm going to find out anyway, so you might as well talk," she said, waving a heavily gloved hand about flippantly.

Zuko had to suppress a groan, and he used his free hand to rake his fingers through his hair. This messed it up so much that he had to pull the tie loose, letting the inky locks tumble gracelessly over his shoulders. "Not tonight, please. I truly don't have the energy for this."

"Maybe I can help fix—"

"Don't."

It was a warning, and she knew it. 

The edge in his voice made her sigh, but she dropped it for the time being. Though, Zuko wouldn’t have been surprised if she talked to Sokka about it anyway. Toph was a lawless creature. 

From there, the...three of them went from food stand to food stand trying everything they could fit in their stomachs—Katara wasn’t there to monitor Zuko’s intake—and having a shockingly fantastic time. 

It was Toph's idea to pick up a few things for Uncle. He loved shopping and ridiculous presents as much as Sokka did, if not more. Some of the little stands had trinkets and knickknacks that were just garish enough to surely delight the tea maker. They all took turns finding the most outrageous gifts they could, each resulting in obnoxious and uproarious laughter, and bought nearly everything in sight.

The night was almost perfect. And it made it easy to forget all of the misadventures the trip had brought thus far. At least for a little while.

Zuko had missed Toph as if she were his own family. Well, not _his_ family specifically. Perhaps a more ideal family. 

Much to his surprise, no one—Sokka—made a scene, and things felt _so_ natural and right. Zuko wanted to hold onto this sense of peace for as long as he could, even if it wasn't exactly real. It felt warm. Comforting.

Easy.

* * *

“Sokka!” called a rather flushed Katara. Her wind-bitten cheeks matched those of Aang who had an arm slung around her, keeping her close to his side. 

“Where have you guys been? We haven’t seen you all night,” Sokka said with a grumpy edge to his tone that hadn’t been there just moments prior. 

Zuko rolled his eyes at the Water Tribe warrior’s theatrics.

“We went canoeing. Didn’t you see how beautiful the sunset was?” She asked. 

They all—aside from Toph—looked to the the sky. Anything left of a sunset was confined to a thin line where the sun meets the sea. The excitement that came with the mass consumption of food and reveling in the company of good friends had overshadowed the phenomenon. 

He wasn’t actually jealous that they’d gone canoeing, but Zuko still faked a pout. “I thought that was _our_ thing,” he grumbled. A smile threatened the corners of his mouth, and he ultimately lost the battle. 

Katara giggled and shook her head. 

Aang kissed the top of her head—did they _have_ to be so disgustingly cute?—before addressing the rest of them, “What have you guys been up to all evening?”

“Well, you see, we ate _everything_ ,” Toph said with a smirk, as though they’d clearly won the night. 

Zuko didn’t have to look at him to know Sokka bumped Toph’s arm with his own—he could feel her body rock sideways into his. Tightening his grip on her hand, Zuko peered sheepishly at Katara from beneath his eyelashes. 

“We? Did you let _Zuko_ eat everything?” She asked through ground teeth, unbidden anger bubbling out of each word. 

_Spirits, not this again..._

Zuko winced. It was clear she already knew the answer and was moments away from detonating.

“He’s fine, Katara,” Sokka insisted. “He had a fever, it’s not like he—“

“Not like he what, Sokka? It’s not like he _died_?” she spat, tears already gathering in her eyes. They came dangerously close to spilling over, but Zuko knew Katara well enough to see that she was fighting it. 

”Katara!” Zuko said sharply.

He looked around wildly. That kind of sensitive information getting out was the absolute _last_ thing he needed. But luckily, there didn’t seem to be anyone looming nearby. Still, Zuko was on edge, his heart beating violently in his chest. He knew Toph could hear it, or maybe feel it even through her glove. Regardless, she leaned heavier against his side, providing a sort of comfort he didn’t even know he was craving. 

Sokka flinched as if he’d been slapped. “Stop it. He’s a grown man, if he thinks he can handle something, let him. He’s recovering, and he _is_ alive. So let him _be_ alive.” 

The raw conviction in Sokka’s voice made Zuko’s neck snap to stare at him over Toph’s head. _Sokka, why are you—_

“I thought the incident wasn’t that bad, that’s what the letter to Aang said,” Toph chimed in, accusation heavy in her voice. 

No one answered her.

Aang stepped forward with his hands up as a gesture of peace. “How about we ask Zuko how he’s feeling,” he suggested. _And then go back to having the good night that we were having just a few minutes ago._ He didn’t add that, but the air was pregnant with the implication. 

Everyone—even Toph—turned to look at Zuko who wanted nothing more than to curl in on himself and disappear. He hated that the water siblings were fighting because of him. He hated the feeble ice that had gotten all of them there in that moment. He hated being seen as physically weak while he was anything but. He hated everything about this stupid situation. 

“I feel perfectly fine,” he mumbled. It wasn’t exactly a lie. He was exhausted, his throat was still sore, and he was developing an intense headache—though that was likely due to anxiety and had little to do with his ailment—but other than that, he did feel worlds better than even the previous night. 

Katara looked skeptical and Sokka looked very self-satisfied. Toph’s hand clenched in his but she said nothing.

“I really do,” he insisted. Zuko sighed deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose with his free hand. “Can we just drop this, please? It’s over, I’m _fine._ We can move past what happened now?” 

Toph craned her neck to whisper in his ear, "Hey, calm down, you're gonna melt my hand off."

The stress of the situation had gotten Zuko rather heated. Literally. He hummed apologetically and forced himself to relax.

Sokka stared at Katara with an eyebrow raised and an obnoxious smirk on his face. “I’ve also been with him all night. He’s fine.”

Seriously, _why_ was Sokka laying it on so thick? This was excessive. Zuko knew he was putting on the show extra for Toph and Aang, but this was a _lot_. Zuko grit his teeth and kept his mouth shut. 

Aang clapped his hands together, the sound muffled by his gloves. “Great!” He chirped overly enthusiastically. “Let’s figure out what to do next.”

Katara continued to simmer but she stayed quiet for the time being, occasionally shooting suspicious looks at Zuko and daggers at her brother. 

They were going to pay for this later, Zuko knew it.

* * *

Despite his and Sokka’s earlier protests, Zuko _was_ tired. He was extremely grateful that the activity on the menu was simply piling onto Zuko’s bed—why did that always end up happening?—and swapping stories. They’d all been separated for too long and catching up on everything in their allotted time would be quite an undertaking. 

Toph was talking about her school and the progress her students have made while Aang and Katara hung onto her every word. 

Much to _everyone’s_ relief, Katara had completely calmed from her eruptions that day now that all of them—and specifically Zuko—were confined to a warm room and bed. The air around her was a lot more comfortable, and he thought he could almost recognize the girl who’d spent all those days with Zuko leading up to the accident. Good. He’d missed that girl, loved her as if she were his own sister and it killed him that all of her distress was his fault. He hated just how much she’d been shaken by his unfortunate and disastrous dip into the sea.

Seeing her happy and relaxed in a heap of her closest friends was a thing of beauty. His heart felt incredibly warm.

Zuko was distracted. Watching his friends fondly, he realized just how much he’d missed all of them. How much he’d missed being surrounded by them. He could feel that his defenses were lower than he was comfortable with, but here, surrounded by those he trusted most—and not to mention some of the most powerful benders he’d ever met—he didn’t need them. He was safe. 

Just then Sokka’s gaze locked him in and Zuko’s entire body tensed. 

Okay, maybe not so safe. 

It was enough to make Toph pause for just a moment too long. With slightly narrowed eyes, she cleared her throat before reclaiming her train of thought. 

Sokka continued staring, his eyes annoyingly unreadable. 

_What are you thinking?_ Zuko wanted to say. He shook his head once, as imperceptibly as he could. Maybe Sokka would catch on and look away. 

Those crystalline blue eyes looked so open and so reserved all at once. 

Zuko raised his eyebrow. 

Finally, Sokka averted his gaze. 

Just like that, Zuko could suddenly breathe again, and his heart thundered wildly in his chest. He knew Toph could hear it, her unseeing eyes bore straight into him as she concluded her story. 

It was as if the Water Tribe boy had cut Zuko open and burrowed deep inside his skin. The harder he tried not to think about this ludicrous situation, the more he did. Quite frankly, it was an enormous pain in his ass. 

There was so much that Zuko wasn’t looking forward to. The questions she’d inevitably ask the moment he and Toph were alone together. Making it through these last days under Sokka’s uncomfortable looks. Having to say goodbye to his friends again for who knows how long...

But there was something he was really, _really_ looking forward to. Going home. The place where warm air curled around his skin like a hug, and everything was familiar. Where he was always able to distract himself with something or other if he needed it. Where he could get a decent night's sleep. And best of all, not having to think about Sokka for a _very_ long time. 

All he had to do was hold on for a few more days.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this chapter is really late. My life got flipped upside down this past month and a half and I've been trying to reorient myself. Thank you so much for your patience. 
> 
> Gratuitous sibling Zuko and Toph is my fave. 
> 
> Chapter title from Let's Talk About Your Hair - Have Mercy


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